


Who Is John Watson?

by megwriteswow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-09 00:47:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 34,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1962618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megwriteswow/pseuds/megwriteswow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenlock AU where John Watson has recently moved to a new boarding school and bumped into an interesting boy that captured his interest</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've ever written any sort of fanfic so I apologise for how bad it probably is whoops, anyway enjoy!

John Watson sat in the back seat of his father's rather old and deteriorating Nissan Micra as his parents sat in uncomfortable silence. They had no idea of the internal struggle their son was going through at that very moment. No idea of the tall, mysterious boy with the dark curly hair that had captured John's interest the moment he saw him. No idea that this boy, Sherlock Holmes, had been the object of John's thoughts since his first day at that school, and perhaps not for the right reasons.

"Sweetie?" His mother was turned in her seat to face him as he was blankly staring at the passing fields out the window.

"Hmm?" John turned to face her perfectly bobbed, sandy blonde hair and familiar toothy smile which faltered slightly as she saw the distance in her son's eyes.

"I said, are you alright? You've been awfully quiet back there, we were expecting to hear all about your first half term at Dashford." Mrs Watson's face suddenly become quite stern as she twisted around further to face John, the seatbelt in danger of decapitating her.

"You're not being bullied are you, John? Is that why you're so quiet? Because if you are, we are turning straight back around to have a word with whoever it is running that school. I will not have my son being targeted." Her face was flushed slightly and before John could reassure her, his father stepped in.

Mr Watson was a very uptight and traditional man, who John respected greatly up until recently. Being the way he was, his father was against anything that he didn't consider 'normal', which included being gay. This hadn't mattered much to John as he was growing up, he hadn't taken much notice, but in the past few months his father's words had mattered more than he realised as his sister Harriet revealed her sexuality. Mr Watson's values had prompted her to leave home and run away with her girlfriend as soon as she turned 18. John couldn't blame her, although part of him would always resent her for leaving him to pick up the pieces of their mother's heart.

"Oh stop fussing. Even if the boy is getting into a bit of trouble, it's all part of school life. It'll benefit him, if anything." Mr Watson's eyes never flickered from the road which prevented him from seeing his wife's somewhat peppy expression turn stony. John knew better than to speak up now. An argument was inevitable, as he'd feared, and he wanted to stay well out of it. It made his insides churn to see them fight as much as they did. Being at Dashford College had meant John hadn't been subjected to awkward silences around the house, or the feeling of treading on eggshells, which he was thankful for.

He began to think of stupid, arrogant Sherlock Holmes again as he blocked out the sound of his parent's voices, which were growing louder the closer they got to home, and he turned to resume his position of staring out the window for the remainder of the journey.

***

Just over a month before, John Watson had started attending Dashford College, a boarding school not too far from home. There was nothing wrong with life at his previous school, in fact he found himself missing it. It was so carefree and relaxing, which is perhaps why his father insisted he move.

John was well liked amongst his old classmates, but always lacked someone to call his best friend. He was what the other boys had called a "drifter" as he, well, drifted between friends and groups. He didn't mind that lifestyle although sometimes he felt more alone than he cared to admit, which is why he let his father persuade him into applying for boarding school. That, and the fact John felt it was time to get away from the house.

His parents had taken great care in selecting a school that kept boy's and girl's rooms _very_ separate.

"I know what 17 year old boys are after, John," his father had said with a raised eyebrow, "I was one of them. And I'm telling you, a boarding school dorm is not the place."

John had rolled his eyes at this comment, but what old Mr Watson didn't know wouldn't hurt him, so he took no care in remembering his father's advice as he packed a box of condoms in his case later that day. He had had girl's before, but his father needn't know that.

After weeks of his mother fussing and his father distancing himself to avoid arguing before his son left, John was finally dropped off at the gates of Dashford on the first day of term, watching his parents drive away in their cosy little car. A pang of nerves rushed through his body as he carried his bags up the gravel path towards the ancient looking building.

John had no trouble with his bags as he was fairly toned and liked to stay fit by playing rugby. He was the perfect build for it; stocky with broad shoulders. He had been a valued member of the team at his old school and he wondered if he was good enough to get onto the team here, but dismissed the thought before he got his hopes up.

As he reached the antiquated front entrance, he blew his sandy hair from his eyes and began to regret declining his mother's offer of giving him a haircut a few days earlier. He pulled out the map of the school he had been sent in the mail, which had become slightly crumpled during the journey, and made his way to room 29.

A few quizzical looks were thrown his way as regular students tried to figure out who the new guy was and a group of girls were reduced to giggles when he asked them which way around the map was supposed to be. John was fully aware that a good percentage of girls he came across found him attractive, but he still didn't know how to prevent himself from looking like an idiot in front of them.

He sighed with relief as he eventually found his room and was glad he had arrived before his roommate. At least he had time to get sorted before he had to make friends.

Twenty minutes later John had unpacked most of his belongings and they were unsteadily piled on his bed. He was about to start organising his clothes when he heard the door creak open and saw a heap of bags walk in.

"Help?", a muffled voice came from beneath the bags and John rushed to take some of the weight, smiling as his roommate was revealed.

"Thanks mate," said the other boy as they both put the bags down on the bed that wasn't hidden by John's belongings.

"I hope you don't mind, I took this bed." John admitted, slightly anxious. 

"No worries. I'm Greg by the way." He smiled at John and proceeded to unpack his first bag.

"I'm John, nice to meet you." John also smiled and then continued sorting through his own possessions.

The boys kept to themselves and unpacked in silence for a while before they heard shouting from the corridor. John was prepared to ignore it, it was probably nothing he needed to get involved in. He'd learnt to keep out of other people's business from his parents constant arguing, but Greg apparently had not.

"I wonder what's going on... Do you want to go and investigate?" He turned to face John, who didn't recall nodding but felt himself standing up and heading to the door behind Greg anyway. They followed the raised voices down the beige corridor and found a small pool of people gathered around something, or someone, John couldn't quite see. It was times like this he wished he hadn't inherited his mother's short height. (The blonde hair and goofy grin he'd also gotten from his mother, but the height had always bothered him.)

Greg didn't hesitate in elbowing his way to the front of the growing crowd and John somehow felt himself being pulled along with him. They ended up in the doorway of another room and a rather scrawny boy with messy black hair came out. He was looking very red in the face, as if he'd just been in a particularly heated argument.

"I am _not_ sharing a room with you! Not after last year!" The skinny boy yelled into the room and quickly scurried off in the other direction. His haste led John to believe the roommate he had just abandoned was rather large, and perfectly capable of beating him up.

"Oh don't worry Anderson, I wasn't planning on having you stay for long." This voice came from inside the room and it was considerably deeper, yet softer, than that of the other boy's. By this point the majority of the crowd had lost interest. They were probably hoping for a fist fight and didn't care to hide their disappointment as they shoved John around to get back to their own rooms.

He saw Greg turn to leave for their room and thought he'd better follow as the last of the gathering disappeared. Just as he was about to turn his back to the room, a figure appeared at the doorway. John guessed he'd got up to close the door after the departure of the boy named Anderson, but the stranger stopped in his tracks as he saw John and they locked eyes. This boy was strangely tall for their age with milky pale skin and well defined lips. His face was sharp and intelligent and he had an air of loneliness about him. He looked at John as though he wasn't what he expected to find outside his door, like he'd made a new discovery. They stood still for what felt like minutes until the taller boy cleared his throat and tried to close the door on John, while he tried his hardest not to blush. (This unfortunate trait he had inherited from his father; almost any situation that was slightly uncomfortable made his cheeks turn a warm pink colour.) The door made contact with John's foot and they both looked down to see it wedged in between the door and the frame.

"Sorry..." The smaller boy hastily removed his foot that somehow ended up there and felt his cheeks flare. 

"Quite alright," said that steady, silky voice, and without introducing himself or even smiling he closed the door, leaving John standing in the corridor.

John remained outside the door for a little bit longer, trying to decipher the unusual look the stranger had given him, when he heard Greg shout his name.

"John! You any good at folding clothes?"

John gave himself a mental shake and turned to see his roommate's head sticking out of their room.

"Uh, yeah, yeah I'll be there in a sec."

Greg disappeared back into room 29 while John erased all thoughts of the mysterious boy for the time being. John thought he was quite rude and didn't think he should get any closer with someone who shuts doors in people's faces. He didn't even introduce himself. Yet John found something about him quite intriguing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes through his first proper day at Dashford and begins to learn a little more about this boy called Sherlock Holmes

The next morning John and Greg were rudely awoken by something hitting the window. John got up in alarm and looked out to see a rugby ball return to the ground.

"Morning practice..." Greg mumbled from somewhere under his duvet.

"Do they do this every morning?" John yawned and sat back on his bed, stretching.

"Most. The ball rarely hits the window though, they must be having a bad day," he sat up and checked the clock on his bedside table with a groan. John stood up and went to the bathroom while Greg got dressed and then they swapped, with John taking extra time to attempt to flatten his bed hair.

Greg showed John the way to homeroom, where they were registered, and it was taken by Mr Hobbs.

Mr Hobbs (or Hobknob, as the other boys called him) was the housemaster of the boy's dorms and John wasn't so sure whether he liked him. He was rather overweight with thinning hair, glasses and a patchy beard, and John was told to be careful not to stand too near to him as he smelt like a dead animal. 

The boys sat near the back and were a bit earlier than everyone else, due to their earlier awakening. Greg rested his head on the desk and John thought about doing the same, ten extra minutes of sleep sounded wonderful but the rest of their class starting filing in before he had the chance. John wasn't paying much attention to his new classmates, that was until the strange boy from the night before walked in.

John watched this boy as he went and sat down two rows in front of him without talking or making eye contact with anyone. John supposed he didn't really have any friends and he couldn't say he was surprised. He looked at people like they were beneath him and John lost count of the amount of times he rolled his eyes in the space of five minutes.

Mr Hobbs began the register and John's attention began to wander until he heard a familiar voice.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Here," said the boy with curly hair.

"His name is Sherlock? That's very unusual..." John whispered to Greg.

"Yeah, unusual name for an unusual guy."

The bell rang and the sound of chairs scraping the ground filled the room as John and Greg went their separate ways to the first lesson of the day. He headed to geography, a subject he wasn't at all interested in, but unfortunately had to study. He arrived before his teacher, Miss Kent, and sat in his seat on the back row next to a girl with brown hair tied in a tight ponytail.

"Hi," John smiled at her. "I'm John."

"Molly," the girl smiled shyly and pulled her pencil case from her bag as John did the same.

Their teacher entered and they began the lesson. Miss Kent droned on about coastal erosion and rivers for the next twenty minutes and then set them on a discussion task. Molly and John discussed the topic somewhat awkwardly for five minutes and then the conversation took an unexpected turn.

"So, I hear you're friends with Sherlock?"

"Friends? Hardly, we've spoken once and I wouldn't call it a conversation."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I just thought..." she trailed off and looked away.

"Why, has someone said something?"

"Well, I take biology and I was paired with Sherlock and some of the other boys seem to think he likes you. I just assumed you were friends.

John frowned, "Oh... Why would they think that, what has he said?" He was aware he was beginning to sound like a thirteen year old girl asking about her crush but he didn't care, he was strangely interested.

"Um, well, Sherlock was telling me that you bumped into him and well, you know, the others started to joke about him fancying you or something," Molly was now trying to avoid this conversation but she'd already said too much.

"He didn't deny it?"

"... Not exactly."

John sighed. _'Brilliant. Now everyone's going to think that me and that weirdo are gay together,'_ he thought.

 

The even stranger thing was, he didn't really mind. He didn't understand why he didn't mind and he was left confused and puzzled.

John and Molly became friends during that geography lesson and then went their separate ways as the bell rang.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Molly waved timidly and John returned a smile as he went to PE.

***

John only shared homeroom with Sherlock Holmes and he was thankful for that. He didn't think he could cope with any more of his sarcasm or superior manner. John had been on his way to homeroom alone the next morning, as Greg had come down with a cold, when he overheard Sherlock talking to someone just around the corner.

"Now come Sherlock, you didn't think you'd won did you? You've had the entire summer to come up with something and yet you haven't," this voice was very soft, but in an eerie way that made John uncomfortable.

"It's over, Jim. I'm not playing your stupid games anymore. You can't do anything without me reacting, but I've had enough. You're obsessed with winning, so take this as my surrender."

"Sherlock Holmes doesn't surrender. I'll be waiting for your next move," John heard footsteps and he rushed back down the corridor and pretended he was just walking up.

A sharply dressed boy walked past and he eyed John up strangely and John picked up his pace and went into the classroom. He had no idea what he had just heard but it didn't sound good for Sherlock Holmes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of an in between chapter, it gets better I promise haha  
> Again I'd love to know what you think and I'll try to update again as soon as possible


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock begins to realise he might have feelings for John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one case of language that might offend some people so I'm sorry if you do find it offensive, I hope you still enjoy!

Nine days had passed since John's first encounter with Sherlock and after a while he had seemed to have forgotten about him and what he'd overheard and began concentrating on getting used to the school.

John eventually decided he disliked Mr Hobbs when he made a snide remark about his height in homeroom one Tuesday morning. He was not unused to comments at his previous school, but they tended to only come from his peers.

He sat in his usual seat between Greg and a girl called Mary who spent most of her time staring at him. John didn't particularly mind, she was very pretty, but it did become distracting. However, he himself was distracted by the curly haired boy sat two rows in front. John had begun to find himself thinking of his conversation with Molly more often than not. He had been the subject of a few jeers and comments from the other boys about Sherlock and he was quick to deny everything. He didn't know how he felt about it. He definitely disliked Sherlock, but there was something different about him that made John want to know more.

John couldn't deny he was impressed by the way he pointed things out. He seemed to know everything about everyone just by looking at them. It was extraordinary. John would never admit this to him though, he didn't seem like he needed his head being blown any bigger than it already was.

John went to geography again one morning and smiled as he sat down beside Molly.

"Morning," she smiled at him as he pulled his equipment out of his bag. "Did you finish the homework we were given yesterday? I found it quite difficult and I wondered if you could help me?" She had a timid voice and big, innocent eyes so John felt no guilt whatsoever in handing her his exercise book containing the answers to the homework questions.

"Thank you so much, I can't afford to fail this class." She sighed as Miss Kent walked in.

"No problem," he whispered to Molly, "I probably got the answers wrong anyway."

She giggled under her breath as Miss Kent began the lesson and they listened contently while she spoke. John spent the entire fifty minutes resisting the urge to ask Molly about Sherlock Holmes.

***

Sherlock had found himself thinking about John Watson more often than he liked. He told himself it was because it was wise to know as much as he could about potential enemies. John hadn't seemed particularly threatening upon first glance, in fact Sherlock found him rather cute, but better to be safe than sorry. The majority of people he met found it enjoyable to make fun of him so he had no reason to expect John to be any different. But he wanted him to be different. He wanted John to like him and he had never seeked approval from anyone before. It confused him.

He went about his days as normal, not letting his busy mind be poisoned with thoughts of the sandy haired boy that stared at him during homeroom. John had obviously thought he hadn't noticed but of course he had. He could practically feel John's eyes boring into the back of his head, but he couldn't say he minded. They had passed each other quite often in corridors, with theirs rooms only being five doors apart, but Sherlock was always careful not to make eye contact. He certainly found John attractive. His skin was tanned and he was built like a rugby player, which was one sport Sherlock didn't mind watching every now and again... For certain reasons. Despite his previous thoughts about getting to know people, the more he observed John, the more he was starting to feel like he was an exception. But Sherlock reminded himself he didn't bother engaging with most people and he wasn't going to start now.

Sherlock was beginning to find John more and more fascinating by the day, and he knew these feelings were dangerous. He did his best to ignore them but it was difficult to keep up his reserved and cold persona when John walked past. John had never looked at him like he was something to fear or someone capable of hurting him like the majority of people did.

Everyone else he came across seemed to think he had a thing for John. The more he was exposed to these comments the more he began to think they might be right. He had never felt like this about someone he barely knew before and he didn't know what else it could mean.

Sherlock left for biology after lunch and as usual he was the first there. He waited outside and as he spotted John leave for PE his stomach gave a strange lurch. He'd already got changed into his white shorts and shirt and his muscly arms strained slightly against the fabric.

Sherlock was too busy staring to notice his classmates approach. A beefy boy with unimpressive stubble followed Sherlock's gaze and gave him a nudge.

"Watson watching, are ya?" He grinned and his cronies chuckled.

"How creative. Is that the best your thick head could come up with? You're clearly not very intelligent and little comments like that have no effect on me whatsoever so I suggest you stop wasting your time." Sherlock turned to face the others with a neutral expression on his face.

"Who are you calling thick? Faggot..." he wandered in to the classroom, followed by his friends, leaving Sherlock in the corridor.

Molly came running towards him, her hair down and flapping in her face.

"I'm not late am I?" she was slightly out of breath and pink in the cheeks and Sherlock was thankful she had just missed what had been said to him.

"No."

"Why are you out here on your own?"

"The others went inside and I didn't."

Molly nodded and slowly went inside, Sherlock following a few moments later. They sat at their bench at the front and Dr Lewis began teaching. Sherlock was always conscience of Jim Moriarty watching him from the back, but he never particularly cared. Jim always stayed silent and he never joined in with the bullying but Sherlock knew he enjoyed listening to everything they said.

They began work on their chemical experiment and Molly decided to broach the subject of John.

"So... Are you going to speak to John about all this?"

"If you're asking whether I'm going to talk to him about the prospect of me 'fancying' him then the answer is no, I'm not."

"I think you should..."

"Why?" Sherlock put down the petri dish. "What have you said to him?"

"Nothing!"

"You've told him what people have been saying and you've told him I never deny it, didn't you?"

"Possibly, yes... I'm sorry Sherlock! He asked me what you'd said and I couldn't lie."

"He asked you about me?" Sherlock was very surprised at this. He'd expected to John to avoid anything to do with him.

Molly nodded, not noticing how important this information was to Sherlock.

 _'Maybe John finds me just as interesting as I find him...'_ he thought.


	4. Chapter 4

It was Saturday afternoon and John took a trip to the library. He had always been interested in literature but unfortunately wasn't very creative and so decided not to study English. After a while of searching he found some classic books and checked them out. He inspected the cover of a particular book and walked straight into something tall and sturdy, dropping the contents of his hands. John's cheeks blushed right on cue as he bent down to pick them up, expecting help that didn't come.

"You might want to wait until your out of the way before you start reading them."

And there was that familiar deep, sarcastic tone that John had heard every day in homeroom.

"And it would be nice if you helped me pick them up." John retaliated as Sherlock bent down and picked up _The Great Gatsby_ with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Well, John Watson, if you hadn't carelessly walked into me you wouldn't have dropped them in the first place, making it your fault." He looked over the book and handed it to John who opened his mouth argue but closed it again, frowning slightly, "Or do you pay less attention than I thought?"

_'Well that was rude. He's more of an obnoxious shit than I thought.'_

"Aren't you going to properly introduce yourself then?" John asked. This wasn't the way he usually became acquainted with people.

"I didn't think I needed to, but if you insist."

John was becoming increasingly irritated by his tone but did his best to hide it.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes. Yes, it's my real name, and yes, it's unusual."

He spoke as though he'd said those words countless times before and John guessed he possibly had.

"It's certainly-"

"If you say 'unique' I'm going to terminate this conversation right now."

John smiled then nodded, realising he wasn't joking and he wondered if Sherlock was this serious all the time. If he was, John imagined he would be very boring to live with. They stood there in uncomfortable silence until John decided to speak.

"So, um, what happened about your roommate?" He wasn't going to ask him about the rumours going around about them and he hoped Sherlock wouldn't either.

"Mr Hobbs is going to find me someone else to share with. It might take a while as nobody wants to live with the boy that keeps live spiders in jars under the bed."

John just nodded again, not really knowing how to respond to that. He tried to look like the thought of spiders crawling onto him at night didn't disturb him and he actually felt sorry for Mr Hobbs. He knew trying to find someone to share with Sherlock would prove difficult and he'd only known him suitably for five minutes. He was just hoping he wouldn't be called upon to take one for the team.

After another brief, but still awkward silence, Sherlock spoke.

"Well, I'll be off then."

And with that he left the library, once again leaving John feeling slightly annoyed in his wake.

***

Sherlock smiled slightly to himself on his way back to his room. The look of annoyance on John's face had amused him and he wondered when would be the next time he spoke to him.

He was struggling to understand why ordinary John Watson had captured his attention over anyone else, other than the fact he was the most adorable person Sherlock had ever seen. He barely knew anything about the boy and he knew that would soon change, but he also knew better than to get attached to anyone. He'd made these mistakes before.

_'Caring is not an advantage.'_

Once he was back in his room he was glad to find all of Anderson's belongings were no longer there. He spotted a note on his desk by the window and he didn't recognise the writing but judging by the curly letters and heart dotted eyes he suspected it was the school's secretary's, Mrs James. It read:

_Philip Anderson has requested to be immediately removed from room 34 and so we have found him accommodation elsewhere. You'll be on your own for a while, but we'll soon find you a new roommate!_

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the patronising tone and lay down on his bed, letting the note fall out of his hand onto the floor. He didn't care for order and cleanliness, as long as he knew where everything was there was no need to waste time organising things.

He sighed and closed his eyes, he wasn't one to sleep often but it helped him to think. And he thought about a lot of things, now including John Watson. He was becoming frustrated with himself for having been thinking of John so much. He still didn't understand why. He was a seemingly ordinary boy with a fairly ordinary personality, though Sherlock had liked the way he spoke to him. Most people were intimidated by his intellect but John was either unaware or couldn't care less and it made Sherlock feel... strange. Of course there were people that were horrible to him and people that didn't like him but he'd never come across anybody who reacted to him this way and he didn't know what to do. It was like John found him annoying but somehow liked it.

Sherlock started to think of John's toned, tanned body and his soft brown eyes. He wondered what it would be like to kiss him, to feel him, and he started to feel an erection growing between his legs.

He felt embarrassed even though he was the only one in the room and he felt himself blushing as his unzipped his trousers and pulled them down, releasing the pressure on his cock. He didn't know how much people in the corridor could hear so he shoved one fist in his mouth while he used the other hand to pull his boxers down to his thighs.

He kept fantasising about John as he stroked himself. He thought about John in his PE shorts, the muscles working in his legs. He thought about what John's lips would taste like, what his skin would feel like against his own and before he knew it he was biting down on his hand as he erupted over himself.

He lay there and closed his eyes as he calmed himself down before getting up to clean himself. He felt horrible for thinking of John while he did that and didn't think he could look him in the eye again.

Sherlock looked at the digital clock on the desk which read 18:20. It would be dinner time soon but he didn't feel like eating. It slowed him down. Instead he lay back on his bed and rolled over onto his side, closing his eyes again, this time to go to sleep. He hoped it would help get rid of his thoughts about John. 

***

"So you met Sherlock properly then? I reckon he's a bit loopy."

"He's not loopy," John responded to Greg's question as they got their dinner.

"He's just... I don't know," He loaded his plate with vegetables and sat down opposite his roommate. "I don't think he really knows how to behave towards people."

Which was true. John only vaguely knew the guy, and he didn't particularly like him, but he could tell he wasn't used to interacting with others. He supposed it must be hard for him in a school surrounded by people he really didn't want to talk to.

"Well he seems weird to me," Greg said with his mouth full of mashed potato. "Apparently he's a proper genius though."

John had guessed this. From seeing the way Sherlock behaved around school and the way he had spoken to him, John saw he must have some sort of superiority and intellect seemed the most fitting. But he didn't seem to be intelligent in the conventional sense. He didn't just know things, he _noticed_ things.

Once they had finished their dinner Greg went to the common room to catch up with some other friends while John headed back to room 29, his stomach sufficiently full. He always became sleepy after a satisfying meal and decided to read one of the books he had borrowed from the library before having an early night.

He picked up _The Great Gatsby_ and started thinking about the long slender hands that had held the book earlier that day. John had to stop for a moment and tell himself to stop thinking about Sherlock. It's not that he was attracted to him, far from it, he just found him mesmerising. But still, there were plenty of lovely girls to spend his time thinking about about, rather than some alleged teenage genius who kept spiders in jars.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another little in between chapter before the boys return home for half term

It was two days before John left school for the half term holiday and he wasn't exactly overjoyed about spending a week in the company of his parents. He'd made some good friends at Dashford but he'd been careful not to mention his unsteady homelife for fear of being judged. He knew he was being silly to assume they'd treat him differently, but still, he was fine living without anyone knowing his sister was a lesbian and his parents fought on a daily basis.

John decided he'd better start packing the things he needed to take with him because he wouldn't have much energy during the next few days as everything started to wind down before the short holiday. He packed his clothes and some books to keep him occupied when he wasn't the subject of conversation and then took a walk down to the common room to sit with Greg and some other mates.

On his way there he felt the presence of somebody walking behind him and was soon faced by Sherlock Holmes. John looked at him, slightly confused, but neither of them said anything as they continued walking.

"Um... Hello?" John was the first to speak and Sherlock stopped just outside the doors to the common room.

"I'm just here to warn you that it's likely we'll be roommates soon." he announced as John's confusion deepened.

"What? I'm with Greg, why would we be put together? It's not like we're friends." John regretted saying that as soon as the words left his mouth. He didn't want to hurt Sherlock's feelings, but his mysterious manner did get on John's nerves greatly.

"You're new here and so you're not fully settled in. It would be logical to move you and put Anderson with Greg. I'm just warning you." Sherlock's expression remained neutral, which worried John slightly as he had no insight into what the taller boy was thinking, although John's words hadn't seemed to affect him.

"Oh, right. Okay then."

"I'm not thrilled about it either but there's nothing we can do."

John frowned at this remark and responded, "What is that supposed to mean? I never said it bothered me."

"So you're happy about potentially sharing with me?"

"Well, I... I wouldn't say-"

"Precisely." Sherlock smiled slightly crookedly and John once again found himself frowning.

"Would you stop cutting me off?" John couldn't believe someone could be so infuriating.

"Why? You'll just end up tripping over your words. It's better if I do the speaking." Sherlock's face still didn't show any sign of what he was feeling and it made John feel uneasy.

"You really are an arrogant arse."

"Oh John, flattery will get you nowhere." His smile grew slightly. It irritated John to see how much he was enjoying watching him get angry.

"And what if I refuse to move in with you?" John wanted to stand his ground, he wasn't going to be pushed around by this idiot.

"We both know you won't do that, you're a people pleaser."

John just glared at him. Sherlock simply smiled and walked off into the common room before John could say any more on the matter.

And, yet again, John was left on his own in the corridor by Sherlock Holmes. Completely confused and bewildered.

***

Sherlock knew John wasn't his biggest fan but that's what made liking him so thrilling. And he certainly enjoyed the thrill of the chase. However, the thought of sharing a room with John had made him very tense. He had to keep his head, he couldn't let his well trained mind become consumed by wild fantasies.

Everything seemed to be different when it came to John Even though he would take some winning over, Sherlock felt a connection between them. He couldn't explain it without sounding cliche and cheesy. He should have stayed behind and let John continue arguing with him but he couldn't risk his own facial expressions giving anything away. Being physically attracted to John he could probably handle, but he couldn't let him know that. At least they had the half term break to get used to the thought of being around each other a lot more frequently.

***

John had spent the last day before returning home for a week worrying and fretting over what had happened the day before. He had ignored the rumours and thought there was a mutual dislike between the two of them but Sherlock seemed to find it all rather entertaining.

 _'Why did he feel the need to "warn" me?'_   He supposed that was just the way the mysterious Sherlock Holmes did things. _'I don't like him,'_ He reminded himself whenever he felt this thought waver. In truth, he was beginning to warm to Sherlock but he wouldn't let himself believe that. It was easier disliking him for the time being. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the half term holiday and the boys return home for a week, much to their dismay

John's parents pulled into the driveway of their traditional English house in London and got out of the car without saying two words to each other. He sighed to himself as he carried his bag inside and dumped it at the base of the creaky wooden stairs as he always did, while his mother went straight to the kitchen.

The Watson residence was what you would expect from a working class family in that area. It wasn't particularly large, but it was big enough. It was full of antiques and the floors were either wooden or covered by foul patterned carpets. John wanted to avoid his parents for now and so he headed upstairs to his room, which his mother had kept extremely clean and tidy for someone who was not there. His room was the odd one out in the house. It was the most modern looking as John didn't have a passion for antiquing and would rather not have the decor of a victorian cottage. He couldn't really say he was missing home but there was something nostalgic about his bedroom now. He hadn't been away for that long but the thought that he would be is what made him sad.

He lay down on his newly changed bed and closed his eyes. He wasn't tired, it was just something he felt you had to do when you lay down on a bed. John must have ended up drifting off because he was awoken by his father knocking too loudly on his bedroom door.

"John? Your dinner's ready son."

He groaned in response and stretched while he yawned, not entirely sure what time it was, but he guessed around 6:30pm.

John walked over to the mirror hanging on his door and tried to flatten his hair but was unsuccessful as usual. He didn't really care at this point, he just wanted the week to go by as quickly as possible. With one last huff at his disgruntled appearance he traipsed back downstairs and wandered through to the kitchen. His mother was plating up what appeared to be some sort of meat stew, which he liked, and she poured him some blackcurrent juice. He was being treated like a child again and he couldn't figure out if it was a good or bad thing.

By the look on his father's face when he entered the room, it was a bad thing. The way his parents treated him always reflected their fights. He was either cared for every second by his mother or completely ignored and left to fend for himself. He had to admit he preferred the latter.

Ever since Harriet left things had gotten twice as bad. She wasn't afraid to step up and tell them to stop whereas John would rather stay out of the way. He noticed some official looking papers on the kitchen worktop as he ate, but before he could work out what they were his mother folded them away and his father swiftly left the kitchen.

"Oh that's nothing to worry yourself over, dear. Just some things for your father's work." She attempted a convincing smile but John was not fooled so easily.

"Mum, what are they?", he sighed and Mrs Watson knew she had to tell her son the truth.

"Your father and I, we...." she swallowed and didn't quite meet John's eye, "We're filing for divorce."

John didn't speak. He had always felt sorry for his friends growing up as their parents divorced and now it was his turn to feel sorry for himself.

"When were you planning on telling me?" John wasn't angry so much at the actual divorce, he knew it was for the best, but he was frustrated that he had not been told sooner.

"We didn't want to put anything else on your mind, what with you starting your new school, so we were going to wait until it was all final." His mother still couldn't look at him and her small voice shook slightly.

John sighed and decided to postpone his angry outburst until his father was present and he stood up to give his mother a hug. John loved hugs and cuddles, although he would never admit it to anyone, but unfortunately they rarely hugged in the Watson household unless it was really necessary. He couldn't think of a more appropriate time than right then and his mother obviously agreed as she gripped him tightly.

"Thank you sweetie," she mumbled into his hair as she kissed the side of his head, "I needed that."

***

Sherlock also spent his half term break at home with his parents in London. They were very rich and cared very much for him, but he couldn't be doing with them most of the time. Of course he loved them, but he'd wanted to go to Dashford to get away from their nagging.

He spent a lot of his time in silence, only speaking when directly spoken to and even then not always replying. His mother was used to it but his father always tried to wrangle more out of him.

"How is school going?", he asked one morning at breakfast. "Made any more friends yet?"

Sherlock scoffed, "You know I haven't."

Mr Holmes chuckled, "Why are you so against interacting with people, Sherlock? It's part of life. And that Molly girl seems very nice, you need more friends like her."

"It's not part of life if I avoid it." Sherlock ignored his father's last comment. He was fond of Molly, but she was no John.

"You can't avoid it forever, everybody needs friends. Even geniuses." His father smiled at him knowingly as he walked out the door and Sherlock continued to nibble on his toast while he thought about John.

He spent the remainder of the week shut in his room, only making an appearance downstairs when he needed something to eat, which was very rare. His room was very large, with enough room for the endless equipment he needed to conduct unusual experiments. The curtains were drawn almost all the time and even though he hadn't been home for a while, it was just as he'd left it. Books and clothes were strewn all over the floor and his bed was sloppily made. Despite rarely sleeping, his bed was a good size with a ridiculous amount of cushions and pillows.

Half the time he spent experimenting and the other half thinking: mostly about John. He wanted to know what John thought about him, whether he too wanted to be friends, or more.

And neither of them knew it yet, but deep down John did.

***

Following John's discovery of his parent's plan to divorce, there had been a terrible argument. It started off as John against his father and turned into all three of them against one another.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" John confronted his father as they were sat in the living room watching the news one evening.

"Tell you what?" Mr Watson didn't look at John as he spoke to him and John suspected he knew exactly what he meant.

"About the divorce," John said sternly.

There was a brief silence with only the voice of the news anchor filling the room before his father sighed, turning to face him, "Your mother told you, we didn't want to add anything else to your mind."

"I don't believe that. Since when have you cared about what's on my mind?" If they were going to have an argument John would rather it be sooner than later.

"How dare you, everything we do is for you, John," John could sense the anger growing and he was just waiting for the explosion that was bound to come.

"Yeah, right. Dumping me at boarding school to get me out of the way was really in my best interest," his voice rose.

"Don't give me that, you were happy to go to Dashford!"

"How would you know? Did you ever ask?" John stood up and his father followed suit, walking up to him with his jaw clenched.

He was about to speak when Mrs Watson walked in with two mugs of tea, stopping at the doorway when she saw the scene before her.

"What's going on boys?" She attempted to make light of it all and stay cheery, which John admired.

"Nothing, Mum... It's fine." John tried to skulk away but his father reached and put a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from walking away.

"John was just accusing us of not caring about him. Weren't you John?" The tone of his father's voice rang through his ears.

"I was asking, as it is my right to know, why you didn't tell me about the divorce."

Mrs Watson put the tea down and sighed, "I told you we should have told him, I knew he would be upset about it."

"I'm not-"

"This whole thing was your idea-"

"You can't blame me-"

They drowned each other out in their fight for dominance and John just ended up walking out of the room. He carried on walking out of the house and then down the street. He didn't know where he was going but anywhere was better than home.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all return to school after an eventful half term and Mr Hobbs has some news about rooms

John returned to school once the holiday was over and he had tried his hardest to forget about his parents and Sherlock. He hadn't been told by anyone he would have to move rooms and he didn't know if he trusted Sherlock's 'hunch'.

Greg had arrived back at school before John and was already lying on his bed texting when he came in.

"Hey," John announced his arrival, "Good holiday?"

"Not too bad." Greg sat up and yawned, "You?"

John decided now was a good a time as any to tell Greg about his troubles at home. He did think of him as his best friend at Dashford.

"Could have been better. My parents are divorcing." John sat on his own bed and crossed his legs.

"Oh... Shit, sorry mate." Greg gave a sympathetic smile and John returned one. He wasn't really in the mood for a deep chat and he guessed Greg wasn't used to initiating them so he said nothing more about it.

***

John woke up later than he should have the following morning and rushed to get ready in time for homeroom. He got dressed in record time and ran across to his classroom just in time to see Mr Hobbs waddle towards them from the other end of the corridor.

They entered the classroom and John took care to not stare, or even look, in the direction of Sherlock Holmes. For the first time since he had been sat next to her, he decided to speak to Mary.

"Hi," he faced her and said, "Lovely day, isn't it?"

She giggled lightly and said in a surprisingly sharp voice, "You do know it's raining outside?" she raised an eyebrow questioningly and for some reason started looking at his chest.

"Um yeah..." He could feel the temperature in his face rising, "I like the rain."

This wasn't a lie. John found it very relaxing and had often sat outside in it to clear his mind when his parents were having a particularly tough time.

Mary smiled softly. "I like it too. It's nice to walk in."

"Yeah, it's great for clearing your mind. And once you've walked around in it for a while you don't need to shower until the next day."

She giggled and John noticed she had beautiful blue eyes and he smiled at her, deciding to talk to her more often from now on.

Their conversation was stopped from continuing by the bell that rang to signify the end of homeroom. John had just left the classroom and was about to make his way to PE when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was too sturdy to be Mary's so he first assumed it was Greg, but as he turned around he realised the hand belonged to Sherlock.

"Sherlock... um, I just... About what you said, nobody else has actually told me I'm moving so I suppose we won't be roommates. Which is probably for the best because I just don't know if us being friends is the best idea...." John's face had gone bright red and Sherlock didn't say anything for a few moments.

But then he chuckled. Sherlock actually chuckled.

"I was just going to tell you your jumper is on inside out."

John looked down at his clothes and realised he was right. That's why Mary had been staring at his chest. He had never felt so humiliated and he just mumbled something unintelligable and wandered off to his lesson, not looking Sherlock in the eye. He knew he would've found that hilarious and he tried not to think of that stupid smile that would be on his face.

***

It was after dinner and Sherlock was alone in his room as usual. He was thinking back to that morning and smiled to himself at how embarrassed John had gotten. Sherlock had known John would need time to think things over but he was surprised he had not come to speak to him. He'd expected him to want to have become friends by now and this was worrying him slightly.

 _'Maybe he doesn't like me at all.'_ he thought, _'But why? I've been perfectly pleasant towards him...'_

The fact that nobody made an effort with Sherlock didn't bother him. He was perfectly fine not having somebody moaning at him with their petty problems all the time, but he'd thought that maybe he could have a friendship with John, and the fact that John might not want to did bother him very much.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. He took his time going over to open it, he knew it was most likely somebody to talk to him about the roommate situation. He was right of course, Mr Hobbs was stood in front of him, smiling pleasantly.

"Evening Sherlock. I've just come to notify you about your new potential roommate."

Sherlock nodded and sighed slightly, not really paying attention.

"Now, I was thinking what I might do is put Philip in with Greg in room 29, and move the new boy John in here with you."

Sherlock's head snapped up.

"He seems like a nice lad and with him being new this year he isn't really used to anything yet so he's easy to adjust." Mr Hobbs was waiting for a response from Sherlock that never came. "Is that alright with you? Of course I still have to run this by the other boys but it's you I was worried about."

"Yes, yes that's fine with me." Sherlock spoke with a slight edge to his voice that came with a forced smile to be polite. This obviously wasn't the expected reaction as Mr Hobbs smiled widely, looking taken aback slightly.

"That's good then. I'll have John move in within the next few days." Then he left and Sherlock closed the door, leaning on the back of it.

This was perfect. He had been right and John would have to admit to himself that he wanted to have a friendship, at least, with Sherlock. He knew he did.

***

John and Greg were both in their room reading silently when somebody knocked on the door. Greg got up to answer it and it was Mr Hobbs. John frowned, he was trying to think if they'd done something wrong but their housemaster's cheery manner didn't support that thought.

"Right boys, there's going to be a bit of a change around regarding rooms."

John stood up and walked over to the other two at the door.

"Why?" He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"I'm sure you've heard that Anderson refuses to go anywhere near Sherlock Holmes. Although I can't blame him to be honest, not after his eyebrows were singed off last year..."

John resisted the urge to laugh at this image and briefly thought maybe him and Sherlock were better suited than he realised.

"So, I've decided the best thing to do is move Anderson in here, and put John with Sherlock. I assume you'll be alright with that and if not, tough. You have until Monday to have moved out of here completely," and with that he left.

John sighed and went over to his bed. He wasn't happy. He wouldn't have minded if he thought they'd keep themselves to themselves but that wasn't going to happen. He hated that Sherlock had been right. In fact, Sherlock had probably requested this himself.

Before Greg could say anything to him, John was out the door and marching up to room 34. Sherlock answered the door after a few knocks and greeted John with a wide smile. He had obviously expected this.

"Ah! Hello roomie."

"Don't try to be funny, Sherlock. It doesn't suit you."

"Ooh, he fights back." Sherlock was still smiling his stupid crooked smile and John crossed his arms. "I've been waiting to see this side of you."

"Did you, or did you not, ask for me to be moved in with you?" John ignored Sherlock's last comment and got to the point.

"Don't flatter yourself, it was just a happy coincidence and it proved my hunch was correct."

"Oh. Well, sorry." His anger deflated into humiliation as he had once again made a fool of himself.

"Not a problem. It was an educated assumption to make given our relationship."

John raised an eyebrow, "And what is 'our relationship'?"

"You clearly dislike me whereas I think we could be good friends." Sherlock's smile faltered and John thought he looked quite innocent.

"Well, I never actually said..." John shook himself. This was what Sherlock wanted him to say. He was good at manipulation. "No, hang on," his anger rose again, "The way you've been talking to me hasn't seemed like someone who wants to be my friend. And I do actually think you're an arrogant shit."

Sherlock became frosty. "In case you failed to notice, I don't have many friends. Don't get me wrong, I am more than fine with that, I just didn't see the point in niceties and pretence. If you don't want to be friends, that's totally fine with me."

This was a blatant lie. Sherlock had wanted John as a friend from the start and they both knew it.

John sighed and he didn't see the point in fighting it anymore. He _did_ want to be friends with Sherlock because, for a pompous twat, he was intriguing.

"Fine, I suppose I'll take you up on your offer of friendship. If we're going to be roommates we'll have to get along." John smiled curtly and walked off back to his room, speaking over his shoulder, "As long as you get rid of those spiders."

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another shorter in between chapter, next one will be longer I promise!

The next day John had come to terms with the prospect of being friends with Sherlock. Of course this would spark more rumours about the two of them but he didn't really care. He was pretty sure Sherlock didn't fancy him so there was nothing to worry about in his opinion.

He was sat in geography class with Molly later that day, both of them working in silence when John felt her nudge his arm.

"John, can I ask you a favour?" she whispered, "Well, not really a favour, more like-"

"What is it?" John stopped her before she started her nervous rabbling.

"I know you don't really like him, but when you move in, please just be nice to Sherlock?"

John rolled his eyes and Molly leaned in further to whisper quieter, "He would never say it but he really wants you two to be friends. Don't ask me why, he's never been like this before, but please..."

"Okay. Okay... I suppose I can put up with him...." John was past confused at this point.

"Thank you. He might seem like an emotionless robot but he's quite sensitive really."

"How do you know?"

"Well, I mean I'd say we were friends, only just, but I can tell. His face falters sometimes when the others make comments. I think all he wants is someone to be his best friend and it looks like you're the chosen one."

John was a little taken aback. He'd never thought of Sherlock having deeper feelings and he was starting to feel a bit sorry for him.

"I'm sure he'd be fine... But I'll try and make peace."

***

Come Sunday night John had moved all his things into room 34. Sherlock had attempted to tidy up for his arrival but had failed miserably. John had organised his things tidily on his side of the room and Sherlock had basically just pushed all of his own belongings under his bed to save time and energy.

Their first evening as roommates began somewhat awkwardly.

"So, your parents are getting the divorce then?" Sherlock had attempted to make smalltalk as they were both sat on their beds but realised he'd said the wrong thing immediately as John's face lit up with anger.

"How could you possibly have known that? I only told Greg and I don't see why he would tell you of all people!"

"Nobody told me, it's just quite obvious."

"Sorry, obvious?" John was not in the mood for Sherlock's arrogance.

"Yes. I've just noticed your behaviour, that's all."

John stood up and started pacing, "No, no. I know you're dying to tell me exactly how you figured it out." He was growing more and more sarcastic and he walked over to Sherlock. "Go on then!"

Sherlock sighed and launched into his explanation, barely pausing for breath, "I saw you when your parents dropped you off and neither of them spoke to one another, only directly to you. There was a certain sombre atmosphere and your sympathetic smiles showed it all. Also, I can tell your family is not one for hugging but there was a lot of it, be it awkward. When you and Greg were in the common room the other night he watched over you rather protectively so clearly you had confided in him. After that I figured it was either divorce or a death in the family. Lucky guess."

"So basically you were spying on me." This was more of a statement than a question and Sherlock waited a moment before replying.

"Basically, yes."

A slightly awkward silence followed before John cracked a smile and chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. He sat back down on his bed and Sherlock had gotten himself off the hook.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something, or someone, comes along and threatens to ruin everything for Sherlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quite long and so quite eventful...

Months went by, with odd trips home here and there, and Sherlock's attraction to John had been growing since the day they became roommates. John knew nothing, of course, and he wanted it to stay that way. At least for now.

But something happened that threatened everything.

John Watson had gone and got himself a girlfriend. John Watson and Mary Morstan were the talk of the year and Sherlock despised every second of it.

He had seen them flirting in homeroom and Sherlock had wanted to vomit at the level of cringe they were reaching but he didn't think anything would come of it. He and John had been getting on a lot better recently and Sherlock tended to get very possessive. In his mind, John had belonged to him and only now it hit Sherlock that he couldn't stop John from doing what he liked.

Sherlock had noticed them becoming closer and it was obvious they both liked each other but he didn't think either of them would have the courage to say anything to the other. However, his worries were confirmed when John entered their bedroom in a particularly cheery mood.

Sherlock was lying on his bed with his eyes closed and he sighed and spoke without opening them, "She said yes, then?"

He heard John stop and there was a moment of silence before he answered, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sherlock opened his eyes and sat up, easily managing to hide his annoyance from someone as unobservant as John, "That Mary girl. Am I wrong in assuming she agreed to go out with you?"

"Well, no. But-"

"There you go then. Congratulations."

John just rolled his eyes and left the room again. He wasn't in the mood for the inevitable fight that was coming.

***

Sherlock hated Mary. He hated how she had ruined his plans to become closer with John. The fact that now he couldn't have him made Sherlock want him all the more and his mind was becoming more graphic with what exactly he wanted him for. He hadn't bothered to hide the fact that he was annoyed about something but John elected to ignore him now he had someone else to concentrate on.

A month or so later Sherlock had walked into room 34 to find John and Mary under John's duvet. Sherlock knew exactly what they were doing and he felt his empty stomach contract at the sight. They immediately broke apart as soon as they heard the door close and they both turned a rather unflattering shade of magenta as Sherlock stood there, not knowing what to do to make the awkwardness lessen.

"Um," he said "I'll just... go then."

John was very red in the face, for multiple reasons, and he was too stunned to say anything so he simply nodded. Mary had hidden herself from view under the duvet and Sherlock suspected she had continued what Sherlock had interrupted as John bit his bottom lip and gave him a pleading look that said, _'get the hell out'_.

Sherlock left out the door and had to stop himself from sprinting down the corridor to get as far away from what he had just seen as he could.

***

Sherlock had never really felt jealous before, not in this way. He had never felt jealous about a _human being_ and he had no idea how to deal with it. He tried everything that logically should have taken his mind off John, or more John and Mary, but nothing seemed to work. He was in too deep.

The only thing he could do was sulk. And he spent the next four or so months doing just that. He hadn't anticipated on their relationship lasting this long and he had walked in on them in a number of different positions more than once.

Sherlock was waiting outside biology one morning with Molly and he saw Mary kiss John goodbye as they went to their separate lessons. He would have given anything to be the one to kiss John, but it was too late now. He'd missed his chance.

"Sherlock?" Molly broke him from his daze, "Are you alright? You look quite pale. You haven't been looking well for a while actually-"

"I'm fine," he watched John walk to the changing rooms and then walked straight past Molly and out the door leading outside.

"Sherlock!"

He ignored her and went around the corner and leant against the wall. He knew she wouldn't follow so he didn't go far.

 _'What am I doing?'_ he thought as he saw some people come out of the changing rooms onto the field, John amongst them. _'I can't keep fawning over someone that has no interest, I need a distraction.'_

He decided to seek out Jim Moriarty. He knew he would probably regret it but he needed something, anything, to take his mind off things.

Sherlock walked along the side of the building until he reached the gravel path at the front of the school. He hadn't seen Jim in biology and he had an inkling as to where he would be but he texted Molly to be sure.

_Is Jim in class? SH_

_No, where are you?_

He didn't reply and carried on walking down the path and out the towering gate that was always open. There was a small abandoned barn a little way down and to the left of the track and Sherlock knew this to be Jim's 'hideout'.

As he approached he heard Jim's drawling tone.

"Ah, I was wondering when I'd see you next, Sherlock."

"Well, here I am."

"Here you are," Jim walked closer to him, "But I thought you'd 'had enough'?" Something glinted in his eyes and Sherlock didn't like it.

"I changed my mind-"

"No. You got bored." Jim began circling Sherlock as he spoke but Sherlock kept his neutral expression and looked straight ahead.

"I simply need something to do in my spare time."

"You mean, you need distracting?"

"You could say that."

There was a moment of silence and Jim stopped in front of Sherlock, the madness in his eyes becoming brighter.

"I'll sort something out to keep your brilliant mind busy, don't worry."

Sherlock had no idea what he was planning and he was quite apprehensive, but the need to forget his feelings for John overshadowed any worries he had about Jim. They nodded once at each other and Sherlock headed back up to school, his phone buzzing in his pocket. He guessed it would be Molly.

_Where did you go? You really shouldn't be skipping class, Sherlock._

_Am I missing anything I don't already know?_

_Probably not..._

_Exactly. I'm coming back up to school now, see you later._

He put his phone back in his pocket just as John came out of the changing rooms with his PE friends.

Sherlock pretended he hadn't seen John as Mary ran up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and smashing her lips against his. Sherlock hated every minute of their happiness.

***

About a month had passed and one afternoon Sherlock walked in on John and Mary sucking each other's faces off. John broke away as he saw his roommate and proceeded to blush, as usual.

"Oh, don't mind me," Sherlock went and lay on his own bed, "I've seen worse."

John clenched his jaw and took Mary by the hand, leading her out of the room. Sherlock smiled to himself. Winding John up was becoming his favourite hobby.

Later on that day John returned to their room and Sherlock hadn't appeared to have moved from his position on the bed. Only the slamming of the door had caused him to open his eyes.

"Sherlock, I need a word with you."

"What about?" The taller boy still didn't move.

"Can you please just sit up and listen? Is that so hard for you to do?" John was clearly not in a good mood so Sherlock did as he was told.

"What?" Sherlock already knew of course, but he didn't want to anger John further.

"Well, you've probably figured, because you're a stupid smart arse, that Mary and I have split up."

Sherlock didn't even bother trying to sound like he cared, "Such a shame. I was going to vote you couple of the year."

John groaned with frustration and raised his voice more than he normally did, "I am sick and tired of you moping around and being so sarcastic all the time!"

Sherlock didn't say anything. He knew John was about to go on a lengthy rant so he decided to just let him get on with it.

"The reason Mary and I decided to end things was because it's quite obvious _you_ have a problem with her. She didn't like the feeling of being hated by her boyfriend's roommate and quite frankly, neither did I! So either you tell me what the fuck is wrong with you, or you can find yourself yet another roommate because I've had enough of you, Sherlock."

John went over and slumped himself on his own bed, not expecting anything else to be said on the matter. He just expecting Sherlock to stay silent for a couple of days until things simmered down to normal.

John rolled over to face the wall and Sherlock watched him breathe. He watched his body rise and fall gently and he had the urge to go and curl up next to him but of course he couldn't do that. He couldn't do that because John Watson was straight.

In the spur of the moment Sherlock decided to tell John the truth right there and then. He had less to lose than he could gain.

"John?" Sherlock spoke softly to let him know he wasn't picking a fight.

"What?" John snapped, still facing the wall.

"I have to tell you something."

"If it's that you've got some sort of poisonous bug living in my sheets for an experiment, I will actually kill you."

"No, no..."

The fact that Sherlock didn't come back with a sarcastic remark piqued John's interest and he turned to face Sherlock's anxious expression, "What is it?"

Sherlock sat up and tried to form the right words, he had to be delicate about this, "I... I'm attracted to you, John Watson. That's it..."

He stood up and went to leave so he didn't have to face John's rejection.

"Wait, don't go."

John didn't sound angry, in fact, he sounded surprisingly calm, so Sherlock turned back to face him.

"I... Is that why you hated Mary? You were jealous?"

Sherlock simply nodded. He didn't know how shaky his voice would be if he spoke. He hoped it wouldn't be as unsteady as his hands.

John just nodded back and they then stood in uncomfortable silence until Sherlock pulled the door handle down and John let him walk out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John struggles to come to terms with his bubbling feelings following Sherlock's confession

The next couple of weeks went by awkwardly, to say the least.

Sherlock had known John would need time to process what he had said. The fact that John didn't immediately turn him down gave Sherlock a glimmer of hope, but he had expected him to have said something about it by now.

Day after day went by and Sherlock tried his best to act as normal as possible but that had become increasingly difficult. He had admitted his weakness and he felt extremely vulnerable. He sometimes wondered if John had forgotten and he was tempted to bring it up again but then John would look at him strangely and Sherlock knew he was still figuring things out.

Sherlock had forgotten about Jim Moriarty now that things were tense with John. Jim had of course noticed, and he didn't like to be second best.

John, on the other hand, was impressed at how patient Sherlock was being. He'd expected him to be asking him how he felt about it every five minutes but he hadn't said a word. John knew he was still fretting about it though. For someone so calm and collected, Sherlock really did worry a lot.

John couldn't deny he had noticed how strikingly attractive Sherlock was. His skin was pale and smooth and this facial feautures were sharp and precise. Basically he was the complete opposite to John and he loved it.

 _'But I am not gay.'_ he kept telling himself, _'I literally just split up with a girl...'_

This wasn't how things were supposed to go for John. He was supposed to pass his exams, get a job, have a wife, have children, but now he saw things differently. Now he saw Sherlock Holmes differently.

***

It was Saturday afternoon and John was sat on his bed waiting for Sherlock to come back from lunch. He had finally decided that he was going to tell Sherlock what he thought and he had a hunch he wasn't going to like it.

The door swung open and in walked the taller boy, who smiled politely and sat at the desk the boy's shared.

John cleared his throat, "Um, Sherlock?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Can we talk? About... you know."

Sherlock swivelled the chair around to face John and looked at him expectantly. He was clealy getting nervous. John tried to terminate the part of his brain that said it was cute.

"I, um, I don't think we should, uh, extend our relationship into anything more. I mean, I do like you, and I have come to terms with the fact that I find you attractive, but I don't think it's a good idea to act on it." John was being strangely formal and Sherlock sensed he had rehearsed this little speech.

"Okay," he turned back to face the computer on his desk.

"Okay?"

"Yes, John. Okay."

John had expected him to put up more of a fight but he didn't say anything more. He just lay down on his bed and opened a book, glancing at the back of Sherlock's head every now and again.

This is what Sherlock had expected. He was still disappointed, but he had known this was coming. And now Sherlock had seemed like he was fine with it, John would realise he did in fact want him. Sherlock knew how people worked and he had especially noticed how John worked.

Another few days passed by them until one evening John announced he was going for a walk outside, despite it being pouring with rain. He returned fifteen minutes later soaked to the bone and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Sit down, you're dripping wet."

"No shit, Sh-Sherlock," John shivered.

Sherlock ignored him and unfolded a towel from one of the drawers, handing it to John who was sat on the chair at the desk.

"What possessed you to go out in the torrential rain, anyway?"

"It helps me think."

"Dirty rain water helps you think?"

"Shut up."

Silence.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"What did you need to think about?"

"What I was going to have for breakfast tomorrow," John snapped, "You know bloody well what."

"I was simply asking a question, there's no need to take it out on me."

"There is every need to take it out on you! You're the one that's got me into this situation, I don't know what to think anymore and it's all down to you! If you hadn't... If you weren't..."

Before Sherlock could stop himself he walked over to John, bent down on his knees, and kissed him. John tensed up immediately but didn't pull away. That's all Sherlock needed: for John to stay.

They stayed still for a moment, their lips only just touching, but touching enough for Sherlock to taste the rainwater and for John to taste the longing.

John was the one to pull away, and as he did Sherlock noticed a single tear roll down his soft skin. He lifted a finger to wipe it away but John stood up, nudging Sherlock away as he went and lay on his bed, facing the wall.

Sherlock stood up and watched John for a moment before going to his own bed. Neither of them bothered to change or even get under the covers.

There was silence for a while before a gentle voice whispered, "Goodnight Sherlock."

"Goodnight John."


	11. Chapter 11

John was gone before Sherlock woke up the next morning and he had clearly left in a rush as John's usually orderly side of the room was in a dire state. From the trail he had left, Sherlock could tell John had woken up and immediately gone into a state of panic about the event of the night before. Sherlock couldn't blame him. Being kissed would have been the last thing John expected.

Sherlock skipped homeroom to avoid John; he couldn't afford to make things worse between them. He went straight to biology once he was dressed and quickly turned the other way when he saw John coming down the corridor towards him. He wasn't sure he could resist leaping on John and kissing all over while he apologised for everything.

Sherlock's concentration was less than average as he progressed through the day. It wasn't that he regretted the kiss, he just regretted choosing the wrong time to do it. But he couldn't have stopped himself if he tried. The way John had looked with his light hair turning dark from the rain, his eyes shining and water dripping off the end of his round, button nose would have driven Sherlock mad.

John spent the day in the same position, but with an added weight on his mind.

He didn't know he had wanted to kiss Sherlock until after it had happened. There was definitely something between them only John had thought it was heated dislike, and now he was very, very confused. He hadn't believed or trusted the rumours and people telling him Sherlock liked him, even when Sherlock practically told him himself.

Trying to accept the fact that he probably was actually gay was very difficult for John. All he could think about was what his father would do if he found out and he decided he just had to tell Sherlock the truth, that he wanted him but couldn't have him. But John had been put off the idea of talking to him as he noticed Sherlock was trying his best to avoid him all day.

Every possible thought went through John's head as the day went on. Did Sherlock regret it? Was he just going to pretend nothing happened? He had no idea what was happening.

***

John spent that evening in the common room catching up with Greg.

"So, what's it been like then?"

"What?" John was lost in his thoughts but was thankful he was there with Greg rather than Sherlock.

"Sharing with Sherlock?"

"Oh, yeah, he gets on my nerves a bit but it's not too bad."

"Glad you're alright," he sighed and leant back in his chair, "Anderson's a bloody nightmare."

John chuckled but Greg wasn't laughing.

"This is no laughing matter. You have no idea how many methods of murder I've thought up since he moved in."

"I could be a help. Sherlock has actually quizzed me on the most efficient ways of getting away with murder."

Greg laughed and they stayed chatting until quite late. John was glad he had something to take his mind off things. He didn't know what was going on in his brain and he was scared. He was mostly afraid of what people would think. John knew this was stupid but he had always cared too much about what others thought. His main worry was what his father would say. One gay child had been bad enough, but two might just kill him.

But Sherlock would be worth it. John shouldn't care about anyone else because he wanted to be with Sherlock. He really did. They were polar opposites and only now did John realise that's why they would work so well.

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"You okay mate?" Greg was looking at him with slight concern.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I'm great actually," John stood up, "I just need to go and find someone..."

"..Okay, see you later then," Greg smiled despite being completely bewildered.

The common room suddenly went strangely quiet and they both looked towards the door as Jim Moriarty entered, bringing an air of terror with him.

"John Watson," he spoke into the silence.

"Uh, yeah?" John raised his hand slightly and immediately felt foolish for doing so.

Jim turned and walked out and after exchanging confused expressions with Greg, John followed. He followed all the way to the abandoned barn just outside school grounds, which was rather spooky in the dark, with neither of them saying a word until they got there.

"Sorry, but who are you?"

"It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is you and Sherlock Holmes."

"What? There's nothing- Well, there might... I..." John spluttered.

"Listen closely, John. Before you came along I was the one that had captured Sherlock's thoughts, his interest. But now all he does is fawn over _you_."

"I don't-"

"Shhh. Now, I'm telling you to stay away from Sherlock. Stay away, or I will be made to do something I really don't want to."

"Why? I'm not scared of you, if you have a problem with him 'fawning' over me, why don't you harass _him_ about it?" John started to walk away and was surprised that Jim let him.

Once John was closer to school he started running. He suddenly felt afraid of what might happen and his instincts told him to go straight to Sherlock. He ran all the way to his room where Sherlock was sat on his laptop. This was the first time they will have spoken since they kissed the night before and even though John did want them to be together, he found it hard. But he had to get over that and tell Sherlock what just happened. Maybe he could make sense of it.

"Sherlock?" he was pretty out of breathe and he stood behind him.

"Mmm?" Sherlock span around in his chair, "Have you been running? Why were you running?"

"That weird kid, the one in your biology class Molly told me about, he just threatened me." Sherlock stood up and suddenly became very serious and protective. John felt a warmth in his stomach. Sherlock cared about him and he suddenly felt even more attracted to him.

"Moriarty...What did he say?"

"He told me to stay away from you-" John frowned and looked up at Sherlock.

"Because you're taking all the attention away from him..." he seemed to speak more to himself than John.

"Yeah, that's basically what he said... Is he dangerous? Should I be scared?"

"Oh he's very dangerous, John. The most dangerous."

"Reassuring..."

"I won't let him hurt you."

"I don't need protecting, Sherlock."

"Yes you do."

"I do not!"

Sherlock chuckled and John got into bed without retaliating. Sherlock did the same and a few minutes after the light had gone out, he spoke.

"Was that our first argument?"

"Goodnight, Sherlock," John ignored him and despite speaking sternly he was smiling to himself.

Sherlock smiled into the darkness and replied with what would become his response every night from then on.

"Goodnight John."

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little chapter, the rest are longer I promise!

Nothing had been said about their relationship and Sherlock guessed John just wanted to avoid the subject. He knew it was better if they just stayed roommates, or friends at least. He had started to become too attached to John in a more emotional way, and it would have weakened him in more ways than one if it had continued. He had allowed himself to want John but he knew it had started to go too far.

Just as he was about to leave their room to go on a walk to hopefully sort out his thoughts, John entered, nearly walking straight into Sherlock.

"Oh! Sorry..." he avoided Sherlock's eye and went straight to his bed, pulling some school books out of his bag.

Sherlock decided to postpone his walk and also sat down, watching John quite conspicuously. John saw Sherlock out of the corner of his eye and took a second to marvel at how perfect his hair was before he sighed.

"Sherlock, what's the problem? You've got that look in your eye."

"There's not a _problem_ , per say," he stood up and started pacing as John sat in bewilderment. "I'm just trying to figure out how I'm going to stop myself wanting you so much."

"...Oh." John felt his face drop. Maybe Sherlock had gotten tired of waiting for him to make up his mind.

"I'm not stupid, I know you don't want the same things I do and I'm dealing with it."

John just sat with a slight frown on his face while Sherlock went for the door.

"Hang on, you're not leaving? I haven't said anything."

"But I know you don't want to." Sherlock's voice lowered.

"I... I do want to. So much. That's why I'm scared," John said quietly as he looked up into Sherlock's pointed face.

"What?"

"Do you really need me to spell it out for you? You're meant to be a genius. I don't give a flying fuck about what Jim bloody Moriarty says. I want to be as near to you as I possibly can."

Sherlock smiled as John stood up and wrapped his arms around the taller boy's neck as best he could, closing the distance between their lips for the second time. Sherlock practically melted as his arms linked around John's body, their contrasting lips locking perfectly. It felt like they were the only one's in the world that could help each other.


	13. Chapter 13

Neither John nor Sherlock had established with the other what exactly their relationship was, but they didn't need to. Sherlock knew that John saw him as his boyfriend and he liked that they belonged to each other. Now he could say for sure that John was his and he was John's and even though he usually loved going about things in an unorthodox fashion, this was different.

John preferred to do things traditionally but he had become accustomed to Sherlock's style of life. Sherlock still struggled with knowing when was the right time to say things, or what the right thing to say was in the first place, but he had John to keep him in check. John struggled with being a good judge of character, but he had Sherlock to tell him. They worked like lock and key.

After a week or so of being in this relationship, nothing had really changed in the way they behaved towards each other, except they kissed here and there. John didn't particularly mind, he just wished there was more romance. He didn't mean public affection as nobody really knew about them, he just wished Sherlock would think more before he said things. He always had to say how he truly felt about something, even if it hurt someone's feelings. John admired this about him, up to a point.

One Sunday afternoon John had fallen asleep at the desk, his head lolled back on the chair. Sherlock walked in and started talking, not taking care to notice that his boyfriend was unconscious.

"John, I have excellent news. I overheard Moriarty threatening Dr Lewis because I had beaten him in our latest test. I didn't think he could sink any lower in my estimates but he's surprised me this time. Apparently Dr Lewis was supposed to swap his grade for the highest one in the class, if it weren't his, and he had failed to do that. He will literally do anything to be considered the best, or 'win the game'. He is definitely a crazed sociopath and I would know one when I saw one. John, you're being uncharacteristically quiet, is something wrong?" he turned to look around and saw John asleep as his head rolled onto his own shoulder.

Sherlock shook him gently until he woke up. "You didn't hear any of that did you?" He didn't wait for a reply before subjecting a sleepy John to his story.

"And why is that so fucking excellent?" John rubbed his eyes and squinted up at Sherlock. He became grouchy when he was woken up.

"Don't you see? Moriarty's weakness is that he cannot bear to lose. Not even at a pointless test that nobody will remember in a couple of days time."

"Why does this matter?"

"I didn't want to say anything but I'm pretty sure he's practically watching our every move. And considering you ignored his threat..."

"Fuck..."

"Exactly. I certainly challenge him intellectually, that's why he has such an interest in me. But I don't really see why he's bringing you into this. Unless..." Sherlock suddenly went to his bed and rested his hands under his chin.

"Unless what...?" John sounded anxious, as he always did when Sherlock stopped mid-sentence.

"I think Mr Moriarty sees me in a different light than I first thought, John. He's jealous of you, because you have me."

"Really?"

"You sound surprised."

"Well, I just didn't, um, I didn't..."

"You didn't think anyone other than yourself could possibly find me attractive?" Sherlock raised his eyebrow.

"Your words, not mine."

"Anyway, I would be very careful if I were you. He'll want to get you out of the picture."

John swallowed, nervous at the thought.

"He wouldn't.... seriously injure me or anything, would he?"

"If he does, I will take great pleasure in slitting his throat and ripping his sharp little tongue out with my bare hands." Sherlock said calmly.

John nodded and went to sit next to Sherlock, resting his light head on the shoulder of the taller boy.

"Thanks," John said softly.

"What for?"

"Just... thanks."

Sherlock took John's chin in his hands and brought their lips together with a soft sense of passion. John eagerly parted his lips and invited Sherlock's tongue to dance with his own, as his hands made their way up to Sherlock's precisely curled hair. Sherlock felt himself blush as his trousers became tighter when John tugged on his lip with his teeth and John's crotch was already bulging but Sherlock was too busy to notice. That was, until, John took Sherlock's hand and cautiously guided it to his erection. He felt Sherlock's arm tense up as his fingers brushed against the fabric but he soon relaxed as John let a soft, content sigh escape his lips.

John had done things with girl's before but he knew this would be different. However, Sherlock, the self assured genius, had never done anything other than masturbate, which he rarely did anyway until more recently. For once, John was in charge and they both loved the sense of switched roles.

John pulled Sherlock closer to him and momentarily pulled out of the kiss to take his jumper off, then returned to Sherlock's beckoning lips. The darker haired boy had begun to rub John slightly through his trousers and they were both now painfully hard.

John knew Sherlock had no experience in this area. They'd never spoken about it but it wasn't difficult to figure out, even for John, so he decided to show Sherlock what he'd been missing out on.

Being with John in this way made Sherlock feel more alive than ever. Of course he had nothing to compare it to but he knew John would still have been the one that meant the most to him. Sherlock was now beyond the point of telling himself he didn't care for John that much because he clearly did. And even though this made him weaker, he wouldn't have had it any other way.

The kiss had become very heated very quickly and John had moved down to pepper Sherlock's slender neck with kisses and bites. The taller boy moaned softly when John's lips were positioned at his collarbone and his other hand wandered down to his own crotch. John gently pushed Sherlock down on his back and reached down for his trousers. He hesitated as the zip but Sherlock nodded after a brief moment of thought and John carried on.

He seductively pulled down the zip and unfastened the button and Sherlock lifted his hips slightly as John pulled his trousers down, revealing his straining boxers and milky white legs.

John ran his hand down these legs and he thought they were flawless. It was now he appreciated Sherlock's height. Both of their hearts were beating erratically as John pulled at the waistband of Sherlock's boxers but before he could continue Sherlock had pulled them off himself, revealing everything he had to offer.

He had gone bright red and John kissed him lovingly to let him know he was perfect. Their relationship seemed to be working on unspoken actions rather than words, but it worked perfectly for them. If either of them felt self conscious or nervous they didn't show it.

Sherlock waited with bated breath as John's hand trailed down his body but suddenly stopped short of it's destination. A groan of impatience came from Sherlock and John continued, stroking the tip of his leaking cock, causing him to gasp quietly. The tingling Sherlock felt pulse up his body was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

"Please..." he found himself begging for the first time in his life, "Please, John."

John kissed his open mouth as he wrapped a hand around Sherlock's cock, pumping it up and down. Sherlock instinctively bit on John's lip and he began to taste blood which just made him even more aroused.

John's hand kept working and Sherlock tried to reach his own hand for John's bulge, but he was swatted away. John mumbled something against his lips as his hand sped up until Sherlock made a rather inhuman sound and John knew he was close.

Within seconds Sherlock bucked his hips as he emptied himself all over John's hand and arm, as well as his own thighs. He was feeling euphoric as he moaned and he soon relaxed his muscles and tried to slow his breathing. John couldn't take his eyes off Sherlock's sweaty face. He loved everything about it and he reached out to trail his hand over a perfectly carved cheekbone.

After a moment John tried to stand up to clean up the mess but Sherlock grabbed his arm and pulled him down to curl next to him after he'd put his boxers back on.

"Sherlock, we're all sticky..." he squirmed slightly but Sherlock didn't let him go.

"I don't care."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yay the johnlock is happening woooo  
> Wouldn't it be a shame if someone came along and ruined it all...


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to say I'm really happy that so many people seem to like this so far, it's my first ever fic and I'm really proud so yeah thanks for being so nice to me guys, I didn't expect all this, I love you and I hope you like the rest of it mwah x

The next morning Sherlock woke up on slightly stained sheets wearing a clean pair of boxers, with John nowhere in sight. He looked at the clock and saw it was 6:30am so lessons hadn't started. Sherlock yawned and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet making contact with something slightly squishy.

"...John?"

"Mmm," a muffled voice came from the body on the floor and John rolled over to look up at Sherlock's legs.

Sherlock chuckled and stepped over him, starting to get dressed as John watched. He felt quite self conscious at first but the feeling of exposure soon faded as John also began dressing.

They went to homeroom and sat in their usual seats, only making eye contact once or twice.

"John?" Greg was facing him, "How's Sherlock?"

"What?" His heart was racing.

"Is he still getting on your nerves?"

He relaxed, "Oh, right, nah I'd say we're friends," he smiled as Greg nodded.

"Still, rather you than me. He does seem quite... interesting though." They both looked over to where Sherlock was sat on his own, reading a book.

John smiled to himself as Sherlock scowled at the girl sat next to him. "He's harmless really."

***

They didn't see each other again until that evening and as soon as John walked into their room after dinner Sherlock was all over him. He barely had time to breathe before their lips were locked together and he immediately began unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt.

He had just managed to undo the last button when they were interrupted by a knock on the door. They broke apart and Sherlock saw panic flash across John's eyes and he did his shirt back up as fast as he could before opening the door.

Jim Moriarty stood there with a knowing grin on his face and John swallowed.

"Not interrupting anything, am I?" he spoke in a soft, yet unnerving tone and it sent shivers down Sherlock's spine.

"Nothing that can't be rescheduled." Sherlock's eyes twinkled and John stood slightly behind him.

"Ah, good," Jim didn't wait for an invitation and he slipped past Sherlock and into their room. "I was actually hoping to speak to you alone, Sherlock."

John looked up at the taller boy, who he expected to argue, but Sherlock nodded.

"I'll come and find you once he's gone," Sherlock spoke without taking his eyes off Jim and John hesitantly left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He hated being left out of things but he didn't want to make things worse for Sherlock by arguing.

"You didn't even introduce me to your pet, Sherlock. How rude."

"I didn't see the point. I hear you know each other."

Jim chuckled, "You think you have me all figured out."

"Don't I?"

"Oh no, no you don't. I'm full of surprises," his eyes glinted dangerously.

"You will always be second best to John. There's no point in you fighting for my attention."

Jim raised his eyebrow slightly in surprise and sighed dramatically as he wandered around the room, picking up odd little things and inspecting them.

"What do you want, Jim? Stop being dramatic." Sherlock spoke through gritted teeth as he was becoming more impatient.

"Without John, you'll get bored and come running back to me."

"There are other ways I can keep occupied."

"I know you, Sherlock. A mind as fantastic as yours needs exercising by an equally fantastic mind. John can't fulfill that."

Sherlock grinned slightly, "Actually, I think John can 'fulfill' my mind in ways you're overlooking. But, I'll be interested to see what happens."

"I always get what I want, Sherlock. I have my methods," and with that he left the room, leaving Sherlock with only his thoughts and worries for company.

***

Both boys spent that evening in silence. Sherlock had refused to tell John what had happened and they were now in a sour mood with one another.

At around midnight they were both pretending to be asleep to avoid conversation until Sherlock heard John get up and then he felt his bed sag down as John lay next to him.

"Sherlock?" he whispered into the darkness, "Am I in danger?"

"No."

"I can handle the truth, Sherlock, you don't have to sugar coat things. I'm not the idiot you think I am."

"Fine. You might be in danger," Sherlock whispered back, "But I promise I will do my best to protect you."

John nuzzled into Sherlock as they wrapped their arms around each other and Sherlock kissed the top of John's sandy coloured head. John didn't argue back, truthfully he wanted Sherlock's protection. He felt safe.

Sherlock had let John be an exception to his usual policies about caring and sentiment and he was terrified they would both get hurt because of this. He knew Jim was dangerous but he did not yet know what he was capable of and this worried Sherlock deeply. He held John to him and even in the dark he knew he looked perfect. He always did.

***

The few days that followed went by as usual, except both Sherlock and John were very conscious of who was watching them. They took great care in barely speaking or even making eye contact in the corridors and then did the exact opposite once back in their room. John actually found he had chapped lips from all the intimacy that had gone on in the space of three days.

One evening John left for dinner alone as he usually did, giving Sherlock a quick kiss as he left. Once he was gone Sherlock went to his sock drawer where he had stereotypically hidden some condoms and lube. This was the night he was going to give himself to John.

He was falling in love with him. He had gone past the point of trying to prevent it.

Sherlock lay down on his bed with his laptop while he waited for John to return. He usually took forty minutes at the most and it had now been fifty. Sherlock suspected there had been some sort of commotion that had held up dinner but once John had been gone an hour and a half he started to panic.

A million and one things went through Sherlock's head in the following seconds and they all ended with Jim Moriarty.

He abandoned his laptop and went out the door, practically sprinting down the corridor to the room he knew was Jim's. He banged on the door furiously and when there was no answer he simply pushed the handle down and found the door was left unlocked. Sherlock was drawn straight to the desk where he could see a note was left.

_Come out and play, Sherlock..._

He could practically hear Jim's taunting tone as he crumpled up the paper. As he looked up out the window, he saw Jim. He was walking down the path and off school grounds.

And he had John by his side.


	15. Chapter 15

Sherlock's immediate reaction was to jump out the window but that wouldn't end well for anyone. Instead, he ran as fast as his long legs would take him and headed after John.

He couldn't believe he had been so stupid to let this happen. Jim hadn't been particularly clever here but Sherlock had been too busy with his own fantasies to notice this was coming. He had been selfish and he felt positively sick with worry.

His throat was dry and his legs were starting to ache but he just ran and ran. Jim had been a good distance ahead and Sherlock's mind went into overdrive as he thought about his possible plans. He carried on running down the path until he saw a glimpse of someone turn the corner of that old, rotting barn. Something about Jim's choice of using his usual barn didn't make sense to Sherlock. If he was planning something extravagant, surely he wouldn't do it here.

"Stop!" Sherlock spoke surprisingly steadily considering he was out of breath and terrified.

"Sherlock!" John spun around to face him, his eyes were wide and he was shaking his head.

The thought of him following making things worse hadn't occurred to him. He had only wanted to make sure John was safe and he may have jeopardised that.

"If you wanted me to follow, Jim, why didn't you just kidnap me instead?"

Jim chuckled as he shoved John roughly towards Sherlock who caught him and held him securely to his side. John struggled out of Sherlock's grip. He didn't want to appear weaker than he already did.

"Where's the fun in that? I thought a little chase would be more to your liking."

"John, go around the corner and keep watch."

"No! I'm not-"

" _John._ "

" _No._ "

Sherlock shot him a pleading, yet slightly threatening look and John sighed as he started walking off, watching over his shoulder as he went. He stood just out of sight and started kicking the gravel out of annoyance. He knew he should stand his ground more but he was just scared he would make things worse.

Jim tutted, grinning sadistically and shaking his head. "Little John Watson is so well behaved. How long did it take you to train your pet, Sherlock?"

Sherlock clenched his jaw and took a moment to reply. "What are you playing at?"

"I'm just trying to make things a bit more interesting for us all. Life just gets so... _dull_."

"And scaring people to death is fun to you?"

Jim's expression changed slightly. "You were scared? Don't tell me you actually care for him?"

Sherlock stayed silent.

"Oh you _do_. You love him, don't you? And I just thought he was there to keep you amused, but this is so much better."

"Just don't hurt him. I will never come to you either way, it won't solve anything."

"Hmmm. We'll see."

Jim walked off in the opposite direction to school and said over his shoulder, "In case you failed to notice, John wasn't tied up or forced to come with me..."

Sherlock just watched him leave, his heart beating fast.

***

John had gone back up to school without Sherlock and he entered room 34 to find him pacing. He leaped into his arms as soon as the door closed and they buried their faces in each other's necks, breathing each other in. John smelt like the cold air and hair product and he thought Sherlock smelt slightly musky.

Of course Sherlock had noticed John went with Jim without forceful persuasion but he didn't mention it, not now. John was just relieved Sherlock was alright, but he had to get something off his chest. He pulled out of the hug and looked up into Sherlock's perfect face.

"Why do you always leave me out?"

"What do you mean? I tell you everything you need to know."

"But you don't tell me _everything_ ," John sat on the chair as Sherlock stayed standing, his face never giving anything away. "I'm just sick of being kept in the dark."

"You're not-"

"Is it because you think I'm not smart enough?"

"Of course not, it's-"

"It is, isn't it? Moriarty is the only other person that's on your level of intelligence so you'd much rather leave me out while you talk to him."

"John, do you realise how ridiculous you sound?"

"Then just tell me what's going on! He's obviously planning some way to intice you, or whatever, and honestly I'm scared that he will. I'm just boring John Watson... You'll get bored of me one day and he'll be ready and waiting."

"John, listen to me. You're overthinking this, you have a tendancy to do that, and you shouldn't. It's not as complicated as you're making it out to be. I would never get bored of you, John, you're too good a kisser for me to let you get away. And Jim has an apparent 'thing' for me, but I'm not so sure. "

"What do you mean?" John tried to hide the smile that was fighting it's way to the surface.

"He's not acting in any way that makes me think he has a crush on me."

"Well, he never really acts in the way you would expect. Maybe he's just good at hiding it."

"No... no there's something I'm missing," he starting pacing and John knew better by now than to disturb him while he was in his 'mind palace'.

After a moment Sherlock sat on his bed, his eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" John dared to ask.

"I don't know."

"I think that's the first time you've said that."

"I can't think of why else Jim would say the things he's said. Nothing adds up."

"Either way I'd say we're in trouble."

"Yes, I think we are."

Sherlock stood up and John did the same. He went to the taller boy and wrapped his arms around his middle, resting his head on his chest. Sherlock took a moment to register the unexpected hug before closing what little distance was left between their bodies.

Sherlock kissed the top of John's head. "We just have to be cautious, that's all."

John nodded and lifted his head up so he could kiss Sherlock. This was the most meaningful kiss they had shared and Sherlock pushed John gently back onto his bed. John obliged and lay down, pulling Sherlock down on top of him by the collar of his shirt. John had never felt so happy to be with someone before. He felt stupid to have been worrying about letting himself fall for Sherlock.

The kissing continued and Sherlock had learnt John's weak spots over their time together. He lifted his leg so his knee grazed across John's growing erection, causing the smaller boy to moan. John broke their lips apart and squirmed slightly, reaching his arm under his back and pulling out the bottle of lube and condoms that Sherlock had dropped earlier.

He raised his eyebrow as a small smirk spread across his lips. "Planning something were you?"

Sherlock blushed. "Maybe..."

John loved making Sherlock nervous. It was such a difficult thing to do and it made him feel special, like Sherlock reserved the heat in his cheeks especially for him.

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck and impressively flipped them so he was on top, straddling his legs. John skillfully unbuttoned Sherlock's shirt as they kissed passionately and he pulled it off his arms and Sherlock shrugged it off.

They kept their lips and tongues together as long as they could without breathing and then John sat up to take his own jumper and shirt off. Sherlock watched in awe as John's tanned stomach came into view and he reached out his hand to tenderly touch it, running it up to his chest.

They both took a moment just to marvel at the other's remarkable body before John began kissing down Sherlock's neck and along his pale, sun deprived chest. The impatient moans coming from Sherlock was like music to John's ears and he continued to kiss his body as his knee grazed the straining bulge between Sherlock's legs.

Sherlock didn't like waiting or being teased. However, he did like to do the teasing so he tucked his arm between their bodies to palm John's cock through his trousers. Both of them seemed to harness confidence they didn't know they had when they were with each other. Sherlock would never have done this with anyone else. Every decision was made in the heat of the moment.

Sherlock unbuttoned John's trousers and pulled them down his strong legs. John got in a slight tangle as he tried to kick them off but was soon back to nipping at Sherlock's neck.

John then moved down to take off Sherlock's trousers and so they were both lying with only their boxers on. The friction of their cocks rubbing together through the layers as John kissed Sherlock made him moan and he felt around for the condoms but couldn't find them. John removed his lips from Sherlock's as he felt him squirming.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to find the condoms..." John sat up and lay over the side of the bed to look on the floor.

"Here they- Sherlock, what's under your bed...?" John sat up, a packet of cigarettes in his hand and a frown on his face, "Please tell me you don't smoke."

"Okay. I don't smoke," he leant in to reconnect their lips but John sighed and climbed off Sherlock, dropping the contents of his hand onto the desk.

"Have you been smoking behind my back?"

"Well, yes. It would be stupid of me to smoke in front of you."

"Why would you do that?"

"It helps me think-"

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"I don't see why you're making this such an issue."

"The problem is that I don't want my boyfriend poisoning his body because funnily enough I actually quite like having you around."

"John you're being defensively sarcastic because you're clearly overreacting-"

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm reacting like any sane person would!"

"I'm surprised it took you this long to notice, all the signs would have been there-"

"Well I'm sorry I'm not as smart as you! This is what I mean!" he sat on his own bed, still only in his boxers, "I just can't believe you were doing it behind my back."

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

Sherlock didn't respond and John sighed, "Just promise me you'll never do it again."

"I can't-"

"Please."

Sherlock looked at John's pleading eyes.

"Alright. I'll stop."

"Thank you," John went over and sat next to Sherlock who kissed him softly on the forehead, "I'm sorry, I suppose I did overreact a bit."

"It's alright, I understand."

"I'm impressed though. You hid it rather well."

Sherlock chuckled, "I've had quite a bit of practice."

"I think you just like being mysterious."

"That too."

They both lay back on the bed and not another word was said as they both drifted off to sleep.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock tries to figure out Jim's intentions with little luck

The biology lesson had already started the next morning when Sherlock arrived.

"Morning," Molly smiled up at him but he wasn't really listening. "How's John?"

"Can you meet me outside the front entrance at lunch?"

"Um, I suppose-"

"Good. John's fine by the way although you only saw him two days ago so I don't understand why you're asking me."

"It's the kind of thing you ask people that are in a relationship."

"Is it? Why don't you just ask John how he is?"

"Never mind..."

They got on with the assigned experiment, with Sherlock mostly working on his own. Molly didn't try to make conversation again and Sherlock was very aware of Jim observing him from behind. He intrigued Sherlock, there was no doubt about that, but he also greatly unnerved him. The fact that he couldn't figure him out made Sherlock uneasy and he knew that Jim was loving every second of watching him struggle.

***

Sherlock was waiting for Molly just by the side of the front doors of Dashford and she smiled as she came out towards him.

"Hello. So, what did you want to meet me about?"

"Jim Moriarty."

"What about him?"

"Have you noticed him behaving unusually?"

"Unusually?"

" _Yes._ "

She blushed slightly. "Well, he looks at you a lot more often than he used to. I don't know if that means anything-"

"In what way does he look at me?"

"Like he's listening rather than watching. Like he's waiting for you to say something in particular."

"Hmm."

"Whenever John is mentioned he seems to become more interested. I don't know, maybe it's just a coincidence."

"The universe is rarely so lazy."

"What?"

"Thank you. Let me know if you see any more strange behaviour from him. Text me right away."

"Right, okay..."

Sherlock pulled a cigarette from his pocket and put it in his mouth, lighting it up and taking a drag. He expected Molly to go back inside but she stayed next to him.

"I thought you'd stopped?" She was frowning up at him but he didn't look at her.

"No, I told John I'd stopped. There's a difference."

"You can't just lie to him. He trusts you, Sherlock."

He didn't say anything but took another drag. He noticed Molly was wearing a different perfume than normal and he was going to ask who the lucky guy was but she spoke first.

"He's going to notice."

He rolled his eyes, "No he's not. He didn't the first time and he won't now. Like you said, he trusts me."

"Fine. But if he asks me about it I'm telling him you're still smoking. Maybe you find it easy to lie to someone you care about but I don't," she took that dramatic opportunity to strut back inside and Sherlock was left with a strange guilty feeling as he put out his cigarette.

***

After lunch Molly was in geography getting her things out as John walked in.

"Hi," he sat down and smiled. "How are you?"

"Good," she smiled back, "You?"

"Yeah I'm good too," he got his things out as they waited for Miss Kent to arrive.

"How's Sherlock?"

"You just saw him didn't you?"

"Yes, but I just... Never mind," she smiled slightly at their similarities and opened her book as the teacher walked in.

They listened for a while before John leaned in and whispered to Molly, "You didn't happen to notice what Sherlock smelt like, did you?"

She turned around and frowned in confusion. "No- What?"

"Did he smell like he'd been... you know, smoking or anything?"

Molly decided, for some unknown reason, to protect Sherlock here.

"Not really... I mean, he might have been, but he didn't smell like he had," she smiled slightly and saw John's face relax.

"Thanks," he smiled at her, "He's been doing really well, I'm surprised he found it that easy to quit. Although I have hidden all his cigarettes." He directed his concentration back at Miss Kent as Molly chewed on her bottom lip. She spent the lesson debating whether to tell John the truth but she eventually decided against it. She didn't want to meddle or cause arguments between them but she knew John would find out at some point and then she would be caught right in the middle.

***

Sherlock was in room 34 that evening and he knew John was always in the common room with Greg at this time and he was fairly certain he wouldn't be back for a while. This gave him time to think, and smoke, alone. Not having any idea what Jim was up to was driving Sherlock crazy. He knew Jim would have some extremely clever plan and he had to have his wits about him.

He had believed Jim when he directly told Sherlock he wanted to get rid of John to have him for himself, but now he thought back, it seemed odd for him to be so blunt. Jim usually preferred torturing him, as he was now. There was definitely something Sherlock was overlooking. And the fact that John seemed to accompany him without much persuasion was weighing on Sherlock's mind. He didn't know if John was hiding something but he very much doubted it. None of this seemed to make sense.

John had confiscated Sherlock's cigarettes and he had found, and smoked, all but one packet. He was becoming desperate so he began searching for them. He checked all the usual places like under the bed and in his drawers but he couldn't find them anywhere. He gradually got more and more frantic in his search and increasingly irritated that he didn't even register John when he came in.

"I brought you some bread from dinner earlier- What the bloody hell are you doing!?"

It looked as though their room had been hit by a hurricane as their possessions were thrown everywhere. Sherlock ignored him as he crawled out from under John's bed and went to the desk in the hope the cigarettes would have magically appeared since he last looked there.

"Sherlock!"

"Shut up John, I'm busy!"

"Doing what!?"

"Looking!"

John frowned at his ambiguity and went and sat on his own upturned bed. "Are you going to tell me what you're looking for?"

"You know what I'm looking for, John."

"Sherlock I am not giving you those-"

"I _need_ them."

"No you don't!"

"Yes I do!"

"Why? Most people don't smoke so they can think better-"

"It might have escaped your notice but I am not 'most people'."

"You can throw a tantrum for as long as you want but you told me you would stop and so I am not telling you where they are."

"I've already smoked all the rest, I just need the last-"

"You what?" John had that crazy, angry look in his eye and Sherlock swallowed. "You carried on smoking?"

"Well, yes."

"I give up. I give up on you, Sherlock. It was for your own good."

"...Then can I have-"

"No. You cannot have the last packet."

"Fine. I'll get Molly to-"

"Beat you to it. Neither Molly or Greg or anyone else you might go to is to give you, or tell you, anything."

There was silence as Sherlock scowled and went and lay on his bed to sulk. John had become used to this and just made up his own bed and picked up a book he'd began reading a few days earlier. They stayed silent for aabout an hour until John suspected Sherlock had fallen asleep. He got up and crept over but Sherlock was wide awake.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought you were asleep."

"So you were going to suffocate me while I slept. Nice touch."

John cracked a smile and sat on the end of Sherlock's bed as the taller boy sat up.

"I'll tidy all this up later..." He wanted to apologise to John without actually saying those crucial words.

"It's okay. You don't know how to fold properly."

"What? Yes I do."

"Sherlock, this..." John held up a shirt that was haphazardly folded, "... is not how you fold clothes."

"Well it works for me."

John stood and started putting things back but Sherlock reached out for his arm and pulled him back down, "You can do it later, I have something to ask you about."

"Oh?"

"Moriarty. When I chased the both of you out to the barn, he didn't force you to go with him."

"You thought I went because I wanted to?" John chuckled, "For a genius, you can be such an idiot."

"What?" Sherlock furrowed his brow in confusion.

"I agreed to go because I needed to. There was no point fighting him. I knew he wouldn't try anything unless you were there to watch the show and I knew if you followed, which of course you would, you wouldn't let him try anything anyway."

"Oh."

"What, did you think we were in cahoots or something?" John smiled slightly, "See, that's your problem. You always think everything has to be clever. Sometimes you miss the obvious."

"That's what I've got you for though, isn't it?" They both smiled and John shuffled over closer to Sherlock, who looked like something was still bothering him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing to worry over."

"Sherlock, stop it. Stop leaving things out just because you think I won't understand. I'm not a complete idiot you know."

"I just can't figure him out. He must just be biding his time as he plans something big and dangerous but the longer he leaves it the more I have to think about."

"What kind of thing do you think he'll be planning?"

"I don't know... And I don't know which one of us he will target."

"Well, I seem to be the damsel in distress in all this."

"Yes... The most likely choice for him would be to take you hostage to lure me in, but then what? It's too textbook. He's clever, remember, really clever."

"I really don't know, Sherlock..."

"He also loves the appreciation, the attention. He'd want people to know about what he did. Whatever that may be..."

"So?"

"So, prepare to be the subject of gossip. I know how much you care about what people think. That's why you don't want to be seen with me around school."

"No, wait, that's not fair. You know I can't let my dad find out," John's voice became a little unsteady and Sherlock sighed.

"I know, I know."

Sherlock kissed John, mostly just to end the conversation, and he practically took his breath away. They moved to Sherlock's bed without breaking contact and after a few minutes of what can only be described as canoodling, they stopped and John spoke.

"Sherlock, can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

John rolled his eyes. "Do you find Moriarty attractive?"

Sherlock thought for a moment before he answered. "In a way, yes. But it doesn't matter-"

"It does matter because he then has the brains and the looks. I just have the looks," John smiled in a slightly seductive way.

"You certainly do," Sherlock smiled back and wrapped his long arms around John's smaller body. He knew John liked cuddling so that's what they would do. John fell asleep fairly quickly being tucked up against Sherlock and for the first time in a long while, Sherlock felt warm and fuzzy inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how many more chapters there will be but thank you all for reading and putting up with this so far


	17. Chapter 17

A few weeks or so had gone on without a word from Jim. There had been barely a word from Sherlock either but John was becoming used to him being silently grumpy. He was beginning to understand that Sherlock dealt with things differently although he was getting concerned about how much he was obsessing over Jim's plans when nothing had happened for weeks.

It was Saturday morning and John had just finished getting changed after rugby practice when he felt his phone buzz.

_Stop ignoring my calls, Sherlock. It will only make Mother worried, she insists I check on you. MH_

He realised he must have grabbed Sherlock's phone in his rush that morning and he was prepared to ignore it and take it back to him until another message came through from the mysterious 'MH'.

_Just tell me you've told your little boyfriend about Jim's past? He deserves to know. MH_

John stared at the message for a good minute before going straight back up to school. He had no idea who 'MH' was and he had plenty of questions for Sherlock. John hoped there wasn't too much that had been kept from him but he suspected there would be. 

He returned to room 34 to find Sherlock in his posh silk dressing gown sat at the desk, typing away on his laptop.

John closed the door and spoke sternly, "Sherlock-"

"Oh good, you're back. I need my phone," he simply held out his hand and waited for John to hand it over without taking his eyes off the screen. When he felt nothing touch the palm of his hand he spun around to face John, who was glaring at him. "What?"

"Someone's annoyed you're not returning their calls," he chucked the phone to Sherlock who caught it and checked his messages.

"Ah. Yes, well, it's only Mycroft. Nobody pays much attention to him."

"Who is he?"

"My older brother."

"Brother? I didn't even know you had one..."

"It wasn't something I felt the need to tell you. We don't particularly get on."

"Still, it's basic information about you and I didn't know."

"This is bothering you... Why is this bothering you?"

"Because we're in a relationship, Sherlock, and people who are in a relationship know everything about each other. You can just figure things out about me but you're so... so unreadable. I don't know any of the little things about you that-"

"My favourite colour is red and I aspired to be a pirate when I was younger."

"Wha-"

"My favourite time of day is the evening because it's quiet and I like the sky when the sun is setting."

"Sherlock-"

"I couldn't care in the slightest what people think of me but I know you do so I change my behaviour when we're in company. I don't let on that I have silly little things like a favourite colour because it shows weakness-"

"No... No it doesn't. It shows you're human, which I do question a lot of the time."

Sherlock smiled but John crossed his arms and changed the subject before Sherlock could tell how much all of that meant to him.

"What did Mycroft mean when he said about Jim's past?"

"It's a long story. You might want to sit down."

John sat and became worried as he saw Sherlock's expression turn cold.

"Now, I can leave out a lot of the details here, not all of it is necessary."

John nodded as Sherlock stood and began pacing as he launched into Jim's story.

"Jim moved to Dashford when I was in my third year here. Everyone stayed strangely clear of him and he arrived shrouded in mystery. He didn't have the usual new school nerves and of course he captured my attention and I soon realised he wasn't like everyone else. He was more like me, or so I thought. I had no intention in befriending him, you know what my opinion on friendship is, but he greatly interested me. Straight away I could tell he was from a rich background and he preferred to isolate himself. His parents lacked in compassion and caring and they attempted to make up for that by buying him expensive gifts. This didn't seem to bother him at all and he just kept becoming more captivating. One day, I decided to do a bit more investigating. I broke into the school office where they keep the files for all the pupils. Don't look at me like that, John, I put everything back when I left. Anyway, I quickly found his file and read some disturbing information. He was expelled from his previous school as he was responsible for putting another student in life threatening danger. I never found out exactly what he did but it was all kept very hush hush. I suspect his parents bribed all of the important people and nothing was ever said or done about it."

John sat in stunned silence as it dawned on him just how dangerous Moriarty actually was. He had money and money was power.

"Wow..."

"John, you must understand that nothing will stop him from hurting either one of us. We have to be extremely careful."

"He has some serious issues... He would have been, what, thirteen?"

"He certainly started young."

John was afraid. Sherlock was afraid. But they both pretended they weren't. This was of course easier for Sherlock and so he took on the role of comforting John. He sat down beside him and wrapped his long arm around John's smaller ones.

"Don't worry, I'll-"

"Protect me. I know," John mumbled. He sounded frustrated and Sherlock couldn't think of why.

"Is that a problem...?"

John sighed, "No, I just don't like being seen as the weaker one of the two of us. You just assume because I'm scared I'll need protection, that I won't be able to stand up for myself. Well, I can, okay?"

"Okay. Alright..." Sherlock removed his arm from around John and stood up. Of course he knew John was capable of getting along without him, but he thought that's what you did if you cared about someone. You protected them. Now he was worried he was doing this boyfriend thing all wrong.

He picked up his phone on the desk and dialled.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Mycroft. His texts are becoming increasingly irritating and he'll only keep going until I reply."

John nodded and looked at his own feet. He hoped Sherlock didn't think John didn't need him because he did. He needed him more than anything.

"Mycroft? It's Sherlock. Of course I'm alright, why wouldn't I be?" He rolled his eyes, "I can take care of Jim Moriarty, I don't need- What?" He stopped and scowled, listening intently to the voice on the other end. "How? What happened? Mycroft, I need all the information you have."

"What's happened?" John was frowning as Sherlock was speaking faster.

"That's all you have? That's it? What proof is there? You may have her records but how do you know exactly how she died? It could be completely unrelated."

John's eyes widened at the mention of death and he tapped Sherlock's arm. "What's going on?"

Sherlock shrugged him off as he continued talking to his brother. "Right. If you're wrong about this- Oh shut up. That's hardly appropriate. No." Sherlock sighed, "Goodbye Mycroft, give Mother my love," and he hung up.

"Who died? What-"

"It's not that important," he sat down on his bed and swung his legs up to lie down, stretching and yawning.

John blinked and looked around as if there would be someone there to explain why Sherlock had just said that. He stoop up and walked over to stand over Sherlock. "What? Somebody died!"

"People die every day, John. It was years ago, anyway."

"So?"

"Why do you care so much?"

"Why do you care so little?" John's voice had shrunk and his face showed how much this disappointed him. He went back over to his own bed and sat down, accepting that Sherlock wasn't going to reply or say anything to make it better. "What did Mycroft say?"

"That student that Jim put in danger? He killed her. Whether it was intentional or not, nobody knows."

"Oh God... We're dealing with a murderer here, Sherlock. You don't even seem phased by that!"

Sherlock shrugged and sat up. After a moment of realisation, John spoke slowly.

"You like it, don't you...?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you like that he's some crazy psychopath because it makes it more interesting for you."

"Well, I-"

"Don't even deny it."

"It's either I solve things, I figure things out, or I smoke to keep busy. Which would you rather?"

John rolled his eyes and left the room. Sherlock Holmes was a more intricate and complicated person than he first thought.

***

John next saw Sherlock at lunch. He was sat on his own, as expected, so he went and sat opposite him.

"Good to see you eating today."

"Hmm."

"Sherlock, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Sherlock."

In truth, Sherlock had thousands of feelings and thoughts he had never experienced before whizzing around his head. He didn't know what to tell John and he was worried that if he kept not saying anything John would get sick of him and leave.

"Fine. But not here, there's people," he stood up and walked out of the cafeteria without checking if John was behind him or not. Of course John followed, with a confused, yet worried, expression on his face. His mind was panicking. This was the sort of thing that happened before a breakup.

Neither of them spoke until they reached their room and John closed the door behind himself. His heart was racing and he turned to face Sherlock, preparing himself for what he thought was coming.

"John, I, um," he cleared his throat and John held his breath, "I'm finding it hard to express how much you actually mean to me. I normally find it very easy to surpress things but I've never felt like this before and I don't know how to deal with it. I just hope you never think I don't care because I do. Very much. I promise I'll try to show it more, I just-"

"Sherlock," John spoke softly, "I know. I know how hard it is for you because it's the same for me. Being with another guy is all new, but I know how you feel. You don't have to show it more."

They were both relieved. John was expecting the worst and instead got the best.

"How long have you been worrying about telling me that?" John tried not to smile as Sherlock's cheeks flushed.

"I wouldn't say 'worrying', I was just a bit apprehensive I suppose."

John chuckled, "Anything else you want to say that you're 'apprehensive' about?"

"Well, actually yes. We have been in a relationship for a long while now and I think we should explore it more on the physical side."

John opened his mouth then closed it again when no words formed. Was Sherlock saying what he thought he was saying? Because it was a strange way to say it. They had been in a sort of stalemate, after the last time they came close, where they both wanted to go further but neither would say so. And now...

"You mean...?"

"Yes, John, I want to have sex with you," Sherlock blurted out yet his facial expression remained the same and John had to fight the urge to laugh at how nervous he was.

John had been waiting for this since their first kiss. He wanted nothing more than to feel every inch of Sherlock's body. John realised he hadn't replied when he saw Sherlock frown slightly and look down.

"Well, it's up to you, whatever you want to do, I don't-"

The shorter boy walked over and lifted Sherlock's head to connect their lips. Sherlock smiled as John's lips molded to his own and he placed his large hand on the side of John's sandy haired head. John began unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt and as he did so, Sherlock bit on John's bottom lip, increasing the heat that was rushing to his crotch.

Sherlock loved John. He really did. But he was too afraid to say it. Whenever he thought about telling John he felt sick. He was a novice when it came to love but even he knew it was a bad sign if he didn't say it back.

Both boys shed their shirts and Sherlock admired John's muscles as John admired Sherlock's lean torso. John pushed Sherlock until his hips hit the desk behind them, and he attacked the curly haired boy's neck with kisses and bites, reducing him to moans.

John worked his way down Sherlock's body, licking and sucking while Sherlock's hands roamed and eventually settled in John's hair. John slowly unzipped Sherlock's trousers and pulled them down over his growing erection, taking off his own as Sherlock kicked them away.

There was so much heat between them yet they both needed more. They latched back together and Sherlock moaned into John's open mouth as he felt their cocks brush together through the thin layers of their boxers. John rolled his hips just enough to increase the friction and Sherlock's hand began pulling his own boxers down. John did the same and in no time they were both stood completely naked, their fully erect cocks free of their confinement.

"God, you're beautiful..." John whispered and Sherlock found himself blushing as John looked him over.

"Yes I know, let's get on with it," Sherlock smiled in an attempt to pass off the blush and John rolled his eyes as they closed the little distance left between them.

"Romantic as well as modest. I've got myself a keeper," John smiled and kissed his boyfriend as they stumbled across to a bed, they weren't sure whose, and John lay on top. He was careful to let their cocks touch, but only just. Just enough to make Sherlock squirm beneath him for more.

They moaned, almost simultaneously, and both ran their hands along every part of each other they could reach. John's hand wandered down to the part of Sherlock's body he was waiting for and slowly stroked from the shaft up to the dribble of precome at the top. Sherlock rasped and John stopped before he came there and then.

"John, I can't wait anymore..." Sherlock groaned impatiently and John reached for the lube that was in the drawer next to the bed.

He poured some on his hand and slicked up his fingers. He knew what to do but he couldn't say he knew what he was doing. John was worried that Sherlock would be scared, but he wasn't. He was with John Watson. The person that mattered most to him.

John kissed Sherlock as he eased the first finger in, but Sherlock pulled back immediately and winced.

"It's alright, it'll just hurt at first, okay?" John soothed him and he nodded, reconnecting their lips as John carried on with his fingers.

As the second and third fingers entered Sherlock the burn was becoming too uncomfortable until John brushed his prostate and a moan escaped his lips. Sherlock bit down on John's bottom lip as John hit the right spot again and then he slowly removed his fingers.

John reluctantly pulled his smaller lips away from those defined ones he loved so much and reached over for the condom. As his arm extended above Sherlock's head, the boy underneath took time to appreciate how toned John's arms were. His eyes travelled along the protruding vein that stretched up John's tanned upper arm and before he knew it those arms were back on his paler chest.

"Ready?" John's careful voice and soft face was enough to tell Sherlock this was all he wanted.

"Ready."

John lowered his face and they kissed and kissed and kissed. Their hands traced each other's skin and John began to tease Sherlock's entrance, causing him to groan impatiently. John had learnt of Sherlock's lack of patience and his lip curled into a slight smile.

John's cock went further into Sherlock and someone groaned. John wasn't completely sure if it was him that had made the noise but it didn't matter because this was actually happening.

Sherlock tensed up as John went in as far as he could and then stopped so it became more comfortable.

"You okay?"

Sherlock nodded quickly as he was biting down on his own lip and John started moving out slowly.

"M-more..." Sherlock seemed to growl from somewhere within his throat and John picked up a rhythm which Sherlock quickly adapted to.

Sherlock's pain was soon overridden by pleasure and he moaned while John grunted. Neither of them had felt anything like they were feeling then and they never wanted it to end.

John went deeper into Sherlock with each thrust and he felt himself coming close pretty soon. He ran a hand down Sherlock's sweating body and wrapped it around his throbbing cock. The touch alone was enough to send Sherlock tumbling into bliss and he practically shouted as John's hand became coated in stickiness.

John's cock emptied only moments after Sherlock and his body shuddered as he felt the sweat drip down his face. They remained in that rather uncomfortable position until Sherlock cleared his throat and John blushed as he slowly pulled himself out and take off the condom.

He threw it over and it luckily landed in the bin.

"You throw as well as you fuck," Sherlock spoke and John hit him as they both chuckled.

"Shut it, or that will be the first and last time," John lay down next to Sherlock and rested his head on the taller boy's chest.

"Clearly an empty threat. You can't resist me."

"That's what you think."

Sherlock chuckled and John liked the rumble of his chest as he leaned on it. His eyes began to droop and he yawned, causing Sherlock to yawn right after him. He cuddled John to his chest. He knew John liked to feel loved and he certainly was here.

"I love you, John Watson."

But John was already asleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there ya go! What you've all been waiting for! I hope I did it justice haha and sorry it took so long to update. Let me know what you think!


	18. Chapter 18

John woke up the next morning and rolled over without opening his eyes. He expected to collide with Sherlock's warm body but instead rolled into empty air. He cracked open one eye and saw the rest of his bed and the wall, then he turned over to face the other bed, again expecting to see Sherlock and seeing nobody.

He sat up and blinked a few times to clean his tired eyes whilst stretching, making noises that Sherlock often likened to those of a baby bird.

John took one last look around the room before coming to the sound conclusion that Sherlock was not there. There was no sign to suggest where he'd gone to and John began to wonder whether he regretted the night before and fled in panic.

He got out of bed and got dressed, shoving on the nearest pair of jeans and the shirt that was lying on the floor. As he dressed he thought of all the possible places Sherlock would have gone to at 7am. The most likely was that he'd gone for a 'secret' smoke outside before John woke up so he thought he'd check his usual spot first before worrying too much.

John walked through the empty morning corridors and was surprised to see Molly up and about, also heading for outside.

"Molly? Hey."

She jumped slightly at the sound of another voice and turned to face him, her face beginning to turn pinker from the cold air leaking through the half open door to the outside world.

"Morning John."

She seemed quite anxious and looked ready to run away at any moment.

"You okay?"

"Yeah... Yes, you?"

John guessed her mind was on other things so he simplified the question he was about to ask.

"Seen Sherlock this morning?"

"Sherlock? No, nope, no idea where he is."

John narrowed his eyes and she swallowed.

"Where are you off to?" She asked to fill the silence.

"Just going outside..."

"Oh, I wouldn't if I were you," Molly spoke quite quickly and John's eyes narrowed further.

"Why not...?"

"Well, it's quite, um... cold out..."

"Right..."

"..."

"..."

"Sorry, John, I'd better go."

"Wait-"

Molly was already out the door and speed walking across the grass. Her behaviour was certainly strange but John's main focus was to find Sherlock. He wouldn't normally be this bothered to wake up alone, but with Jim floating around he worried a lot more.

John went out the door and walked beside the building until he reached Sherlock's 'smoking corner'.

 _'Of course he's not here. That would be too predictable,'_ John thought as he carried on walking to find no signs that Sherlock had been there that morning.

He was becoming annoyed with Sherlock at this point. John thought he was selfish to just disappear and leave him worrying that he'd done something wrong. Of course, 'disappearing' was a very Sherlock thing to do, but John was a caring person; he couldn't help but fret and worry.

He thought about just going back to bed. It would probably turn out there was nothing to worry about, as usual, and he was getting cold. However, just as he turned around he saw a glimpse of a person walking out of the gates at the end of the path. He swore it was Sherlock. It was definitely his coat swishing round the corner.

John immediately decided to follow. As Sherlock knew, he hated having things kept from him and there was undoubtedly something fishy going on here.

He kept his distance so as not to be seen by anyone ahead. He suspected Molly was part of whatever was going on here and he was a mixture of worry and curiosity.

As John neared the old barn, panic flashed through his body. This was Jim's signature place. What if Sherlock was in trouble? There was John, worrying that Sherlock wouldn't want to have sex with him again, when he could be in danger.

He slowly crept closer and stopped when he heard voices. They weren't very clear but he was certain the low grumble belonged to Sherlock.

John scrunched up his face in a fruitless attempt to hear more but as he scooted nearer to the voices they became clearer.

"Where's John? Did you distract him?" That was undeniably Sherlock's voice.

"Well, um, not exactly-" There was Molly's.

"Molly it is vital John has no idea what I'm doing."

"I know, I know... I'm sure he won't have followed."

"He's more inquisitive than you'd think."

John wasn't sure whether that was an insult or a compliment but he stayed quiet and continued listening.

"I'm meeting Jim on the roof of the barn in ten minutes. If you see John again just get him off my scent."

"I can't-"

" _Please_."

John next heard footsteps and backed into the trees as he saw Molly walk past on her way back to school. He had no idea what all this was about but his first thought was that he'd been lied to this whole time. Sherlock and Jim were somehow working together to get rid of him. He felt so stupid.

He had to find out the truth and what was really going on behind his back. No matter what had been happening, he cared about Sherlock and couldn't bear to see him get hurt; he couldn't just stand there alone and do nothing.

Just as John was about to walk out of the shade of the trees to find Sherlock, Jim Moriarty glided past. He made practically no noise as he moved and it just increased the air of eeriness that accompanied him.

John followed Jim on his way to the barn, confident that he couldn't be seen, and stopped a little way back. He was in a position that he could hear and see everything he needed to.

John watched Jim gracefully climb up the dangerously unsteady barn and he wondered why they had chosen to meet so high up.

Sherlock was already on the roof and he came into John's view as he walked towards Jim. He looked threatening and John was waiting for the explanation of why, once again, he'd been left in the dark.

"So, Sherlock, why such a formal meet up?"

"John."

"What about him? You'll have to be a little more specific."

"Leave him alone."

"You're being so direct, I don't like it. As for John, I haven't touched him-"

"You know what I mean. He has no interest in you and even if I wasn't here, he still wouldn't."

"Ooh, that's a bit harsh don't you think? I can be very persuasive."

John was stunned. Sherlock was just being a protective boyfriend. There was nothing to worry about. Well, at this point, anyway.

"You really shouldn't have chosen a rooftop to meet, Sherlock..."

John stiffened as he saw Jim walk Sherlock closer to the edge.

"If you push me off, John will know it was you. He's not stupid," Sherlock's said a little louder as his eyes flickered to where John was hidden in the trees.

John's eyes widened. This was all Sherlock's plan. He had wanted John to follow.

 _'What if he expects me to save him?'_ John thought, _'I can't do that, oh god I won't be able to...'_

He contemplated going to get help but then he realised he was missing what was being said.

"- you gone, I can make John do what I like. He's nothing without you."

"You underestimate him."

"No I don't. I understand him." Jim started pacing and Sherlock took that opportunity to step away from the edge, and drive Jim towards it. "John likes to love. He likes caring for people and feeling needed. I can help with that." He smiled in a way that turned Sherlock's stomach.

"I think I'm doing an alright job of that already. Thanks for the offer though."

Sherlock smiled falsely and made to leave the roof but Jim, surprisingly quickly, swooped and grabbed his arm.

"Oh, we're not done here, Sherlock."

John held his breath until Sherlock shook out of Jim's grasp.

"Aren't we? I thought we'd established that you're to leave us alone."

"You think I would do that without getting anything in return?"

"Go on then. Name your price." Sherlock spat the last word at Jim and he recoiled slightly.

John was watching intently and saw Sherlock chance another look over at him before Jim answered. John's frantic thoughts were interrupted by the sound of running coming from behind him.

"John!"

"Molly! Shh!" he whispered and gestured for her to join him. She squatted just behind John who pointed up at the rooftop scene before them as she collected her breath.

"John, I'm sorry, you shouldn't-"

"It's okay, he knows I'm watching."

"You don't understand, I-I tried to talk him out of it, John, I really did," she was speaking frantically and was clearly trying her best not to burst into tears.

"What do you mean?"

"Sherlock, he... he's going to try and push Jim off the roof-"

"What!? That's ridiculous! Why!?" Expressing his surprise in whispers was harder than John thought.

"He said it was the only way to protect you!"

"From Moriarty? I... I don't understand."

"I told him he shouldn't-"

"It's too late to stop him now, if Jim sees us here it could cause even more trouble."

Molly nodded and swallowed, trying again to calm her breathing down.

"It'll be alright," John put his arm around her shoulders and she nodded again.

They both directed their attention back to Sherlock and Jim, who were worryingly close to the edge. John assessed the barn and decided the fall wouldn't be enough to kill Jim, providing he didn't fall on his neck. This eased his worry about what would happen to Sherlock afterwards.

The next thing that happened was John's worst nightmare and happened so quickly it was over before he'd removed his arm from around Molly.

Her screams echoed in his head and "Sherlock!" had left his mouth before he'd had time to think. He didn't care that Jim knew they were there. He didn't care that he was crying.

John's heart had fallen as Sherlock did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure when I'll get the next chapter up now school's starting, but do keep checking! Please comment and let me know what you think so far, thank you!


	19. Chapter 19

The next few days were so confusing they all seemed to roll into each other. John couldn't distinguish the Monday from the Tuesday or the Tuesday from the Wednesday. They all hurt just as much anyway.

Every night John's mind would replay the events of that day until he felt sick and no matter how he looked at it, he saw it as his own fault.

Molly had told him countless times he was stupid to think that but it didn't change the guilt that he felt. She too was blaming herself as she didn't tell John sooner but none of this mattered much to him. It wouldn't change what happened.

It was Thursday and John was sat in the corner of the common room with Molly when Mr Hobbs came in.

"Watson, your mother's here for you."

John stood up and gave Molly a hug.

"It'll be alright, John," she said softly, "Let me know what happens, okay?"

He nodded and they exchanged one last look before John was escorted by Mr Hobbs out to his mother's car. John saw his Mum through the car window and noticed she was already crying. He emotionally prepared himself in the three seconds he had before he would have to speak to her.

"John?" Mr Hobbs spoke, "I hope everything turns out alright for you. If you need to, take the rest of the year off and come back after summer. I think that would be best, to give you time."

He smiled and John nodded and tried his best to smile back.

"Thanks sir." John turned away from the school and opened the passenger side door of the car and climbed in.

"Oh sweetheart-"

"Mum. Please don't..."

He couldn't handle the pity in her voice and she tried to compose herself before starting up the car.

"Before we go, I want to make sure you know that I'm completely okay with you being gay-"

" _Mum_."

"No, listen. I haven't told your father yet but he doesn't need to know anything you don't want him to."

"Can we please just go to the hospital? I need to see him, Mum, I need to know what's going on. They haven't told me anything while I've been stuck in school and they've finally let me out so can we please just _drive_?"

There was a moment's silence that John used to stop himself from crying and that his mother used to pretend not to notice.

She gave John another second before speaking quietly.

"Ready to go?"

John nodded and she drove off.

***

Before opening his eyes, Sherlock couldn't escape the searing pain in his head. The first thing that kicked in after the pain in his head was the pain through his entire body. He felt like he couldn't move but after an experimental wiggle of his fingers and toes he was confident that his body would be fine.

The next thing Sherlock did was open his eyes. He immediately regretted it as he was greeted by people who would undoubtedly want to speak to him. Ignoring them, he glanced around and realised he was in hospital but he didn't know why.

He closed his eyes and his brain was all over the place trying to remember how he ended up there. In fact, he was trying to remember most things. Sherlock started to become slightly panicked as he couldn't think of simple things about his life so he went over what he did know in his head.

_'My name is Sherlock Holmes, I'm 17 years old, I have an older brother called Mycroft, I live in London...'_

"Sherlock...?"

_'My name is Sherlock Holmes, I'm 17 years old, I have an older brother called Mycroft, I live in London...'_

"Is he awake?"

"I don't know... Sherlock sweetheart?"

_'My name is Sherlock Holmes, I'm 17 years old...'_

He decided to open his eyes again when he heard the distinct sound of his mother crying.

"Oh _Sherlock_! Someone get the doctor!"

Sherlock groaned in response as Mycroft left and his mother and father rushed to his bedside.

"How are you feeling darling? Are you alright? Please say you're alright-"

"Calm down, you're overwhelming him."

He wasn't really listening properly, he was focussing on removing his oxygen mask and sitting up, but his mother carefully pushed him straight back down and put his mask back on, to which he simply rolled his eyes.

"It's alright darling, just stay put. I'm so relieved you're awake, it's been so long I was beginning to think-"

Mr Holmes stopped her from continuing before she started crying again but Sherlock wasn't paying much attention. He was listening to the beeps of the surrounding machines and thinking. Well, he was trying to. His normally organised mind had been shattered and it would take a long time to put it back together.

His thinking was interrupted by the return of Mycroft who was closely followed by a doctor.

"Hello there Mr Holmes," the doctor said in a sickeningly patronising tone. "Glad to see you awake."

"Mmm," he would have responded differently had his speech not been restricted by the plastic cover that was uselessly helping him breathe.

The doctor sat down next to Sherlock's bed and used the remote to tilt it so Sherlock was in a sitting position, then removed his oxygen mask for him.

"Now, do you remember anything about the accident that resulted in you being here?"

"No."

"Nothing at all?"

"No."

This was the truth and Sherlock used his talent of repressing emotions to hide how much this scared him.

"Alright. We did some scans whilst you were unconscious and it appears you have retrograde amnesia."

"Oh my God!"

"Mrs Holmes, if you let me explain-"

"My poor baby!" She rushed over to kiss every inch of her younger son's face while Mycroft watched in disgust.

"Mother would you _get off_!" Sherlock was surprised at how normal and steady his voice sounded.

After some persuading she released Sherlock and allowed the doctor to continue.

"What this means is you'll have trouble remembering certain events prior to the accident. This could range from an hour or two before, to years."

" _Years?_ " His mother's face was white.

"Yes, but don't worry, these memories will return after time. We can't predict how long it will take for memories to come back but they will eventually."

"So he'll return to normal?"

"Yes, but you must give it time. There are a range of exercises and mental games to help this process along, I'll speak to you about those tomorrow."

"Thank you, doctor," Mr Holmes smiled as the doctor left them in peace and Sherlock sighed. Mycroft was sat in the corner, just watching him, as their mother began tearing up again.

Sherlock didn't want to deal with her crying right now so he exclaimed that he was tired and so he closed his eyes.

His family stayed sat around him as he drifted in and out of a light sleep, catching certain parts of their conversations.

His ears pricked up when he heard Mycroft's voice for the first time in a while.

"Should I phone John?"

"John? John who?"

"John Watson, of course. The one I told you about."

" _Oh_. Yes dear, I think you should. The poor boy must be going out of his mind."

Sherlock heard movement and he guessed Mycroft was extracting his phone from his pocket.

"You shouldn't have that out, Mycroft-"

"Oh, I have a message. John's on his way."

"That's good, Sherlock will be happy to see him."

"If he remembers him. Don't you think he would have asked about John Watson by now?"

"Oh goodness, the poor child. Mikey, go outside and wait for John, just warn him about the... the memory situation before he comes in..."

Sherlock heard Mycroft stand up and leave and he wondered what was going on. This John Watson obviously meant a great deal to him, but why? Who was he?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will probably be a bit of medical talk over the next chapter or so and I'll do my best to research but do let me know if I get anything glaringly wrong!


	20. Chapter 20

John and his mother pulled up in the hospital car park and John felt like he couldn't breathe.

"M-mum?"

"Yes sweetie?" she replied softly, easing John's panic slightly.

"Would they have told me if he was de-"

"Stop it. You'll make yourself ill with worry, just go inside and you'll see everything will be fine. Okay?"

He was slightly taken aback by her directness but he nodded and swallowed.

"Do you want me to come with you, or would you prefer going in on your own?"

"I think I'll go by myself..."

"That's alright. I'll be right here, okay? Just come and get me, or text me if you need anything," she kissed him softly on the forehead and John felt her sticky lip gloss dry on his skin as he opened the car door.

John had rarely seen that assured side of his mother and he was thankful he had her there with him. He was glad someone around him was able to think straight.

He walked up towards the hospital entrance until he heard his name.

"John!"

He turned around to see a tall, suave looking man of about 24 years old. His voice had sounded so much like Sherlock's that John's heart had stopped momentarily upon hearing it.

"Hello..."

"Hello John. You probably heard something of me from Sherlock, whether good or bad," he held out his hand for John to shake as he introduced himself. "I'm Mycroft."

"Oh. Oh yeah, yeah..." John took his hand and shook it, whilst Mycroft looked at him analytically.

"It's good to meet you. How are things at home? I take it the divorce went alright."

"What? Did Sherlock tell-"

"He didn't tell me anything. He didn't need to."

"So you can do all that stuff too then?" John inwardly sighed.

"Where did you think Sherlock got it from?"

John just wanted to know what was happening and this talk of Sherlock was frustrating him.

"Look, Mycroft, I've been shut up in school for too long and I have no idea what's going on so I need to find out. Excuse me..."

John walked past him and into the building, and Mycroft, despite his mother's orders to inform John, simply let him go.

***

Sherlock was still pretending to be asleep but the curiosity of this 'John Watson' was evergrowing.

"I hope John gets here soon..."

"Don't worry so much, it'll all be fine, dear."

"Poor, poor little John Watson. We've never even met-"

"Who is John Watson?"

Both Mr and Mrs Holmes looked towards Sherlock, who couldn't handle not knowing any longer.

"Oh. Darling, he, um, he's-"

She was interrupted by his father, who cleared his throat loudly and nodded towards the door. John had walked in just as that dreaded question was asked.

"Um, I-I am. I'm John..." His heart was racing and he felt tears sharply prick his eyes. Seeing Sherlock lying there looking so fragile made him ache. But seeing Sherlock alive was all he really needed.

There was a moment's silence where Sherlock simply stared at John while his parents awkwardly stood there, not knowing whether to go or stay.

"That doesn't answer my question. Who are you?"

"We were... Friends. Best friends."

Mr and Mrs Holmes got the message and shuffled out of the room to go and find Mycroft. Neither John nor Sherlock seemed to notice or care if they were there or not and there was a strange atmosphere between them. John still felt like crying but he couldn't; not in front of Sherlock. John guessed he must have some form or amnesia or something of that sort. He should have known. He had seen his curly haired head hit the ground.

"And that was it?"

"Yes," John answered, perhaps too quickly.

"Then why are you so upset? Why would you fight so hard to get out of school to come and see me?"

"Friends care about each other. I was there, I wanted to know that you were okay..." John was finding it difficult to lie about their relationship but he didn't want to scare Sherlock.

"Then why not send a card? Friends don't care that much."

"I do."

There was another silence where Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he looked at John, who was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He felt strange; like this was the first time they were meeting, which for Sherlock it might as well have been.

"So, we met at school?"

"Yeah... I moved quite recently and there was a problem with roommates so I had to move in with you."

Sherlock nodded and John sat down so he could feel slightly more relaxed. It was just starting to hit John that Sherlock could literally not remember him at all. It was heartbreaking to see him look at him in that strange, confused way, asking him all these questions.

John stood up again just as the doctor came back in, followed by Sherlock's family.

"Hello," the doctor smiled and John sank back down in his chair. "You must be John Watson, I presume?"

"Yep, that's me..."

"I need a word with you about what happened, if that's alright?"

John sighed and nodded. He was expecting this, and he had no idea what he was going to say. Moriarty needed to be punished for this but he had so much power it could so easily turn on them.

"There's also a policeman out there who needs to speak with you so we'll go outside-"

"No. You can do it here," Sherlock spoke up. "I believe I have the right to know what happened at the scene of my own accident."

"Alright then. If you're sure?"

"Yes."

"I'll go and get the officer..."

John stood up to give Sherlock's parents his seat as the doctor left and they all sat in silence until Sherlock once again became inquisitive.

"John, do you have a girlfriend?"

"What? No, why?" he spluttered and turned away before Sherlock saw him blush. He knew Sherlock would still notice and he had to fight the urge to laugh.

"I need to know more about you if I'm going to remember. No need to be defensive."

"I'm not!"

"Now Sherlock, stop being rude," his mother scolded him in such a childlike way.

"I'm simply-"

He stopped as the door opened and the doctor entered, followed by a police officer. He nodded to everyone in turn and smiled.

"Right, let's get started then," he said as he got out a notepad and pen.

John could feel himself sweating. He still hadn't decided whether to tell the truth or protect Jim's name for their own safety. Jim had disappeared from school pretty much straight after the fall anyway, someone would figure it out even if John said nothing.

"Okay, so John Watson, I've been told you were present at the scene?"

"Um, yes. Yes I was."

"Can you tell us what you know?"

John took a deep breath and looked at Sherlock. He was looking at a bandage that was bound around his left arm and was clearly in pain from all over his body but determined not to show it. From seeing that, John made his decision.

"It was Jim. Jim Moriarty," John swallowed and tried not to look at all the intense eyes pointing his way. "He pushed Sherlock off the roof."

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry I haven't updated in forever but I've been super busy with A levels and stuff so ahh!  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

After John’s announcement there was immediate uproar. Mrs Holmes nearly passed out from hearing that this ‘accident’ wasn’t actually so. Mr Holmes had to juggle calming his wife down and shouting at the police officer. Mycroft looked like he’d just seen a ghost. Sherlock was demanding to know who Jim Moriarty was while struggling to get out of bed, and John was sat in stunned silence. 

 That was until the doctor shouted, “Can you all _please_ calm down!”

 “Calm down? _Calm down?_ My son has been pushed off a roof!”

 “I understand that, but this is a hospit-“

 “Who is this Moriarty boy, John?”

 “I can answer that,” Mycroft spoke up. “He is an evil, twisted, manipulative child with a track record for this sort of thing.”

 John froze.

 “Track record? Is there something we need to know about this boy, Mr Holmes?” The officer inquired.  

 “Uh, no, no, not at all. I’m just exaggerating.” 

 Mycroft knew not to be as stupid as to tell everyone about Moriarty and John relaxed slightly.

 “Even so, we need to investigate John’s claim. You say this boy pushed him?”

 John’s throat was dry. 

  _‘What have I done?’_

 “John?”

 “Um, yes. Yes, he pushed him.”

  _'I can’t tell them any more. Moriarty will kill me.’_

 “Are you absolutely sure about what you saw? You couldn’t have just seen him trip and assume he was pushed?”

 This angered John. Somebody had pushed the boy he loved off the top of a roof and he no longer remembered who he was. He forgot about the consequences, he wanted to see something happen about this.

 “I saw Sherlock and Jim stood on the roof and as they were talking Jim walked forward to usher Sherlock backwards until he was stood on the very edge,” John felt his voice catch and his eyes started to sting from holding back angry, frustrated tears. “Then Jim stretched out his arms and shoved Sherlock. He toppled and fell. I saw… I saw him hit the ground…” 

He had to stop before he burst into tears and he made sure to avoid eye contact with anyone. However, he did feel the need to say one more thing.

 “I’m sorry Sherlock…” he lowered his head as the first tear dripped from the end of his nose.

 “What for?” Sherlock spoke quietly yet John could tell he just wanted to know as much as possible and not remembering everything was highly inconvenient for someone like him. 

 “For not… I don’t know, for not doing anything to stop it.”

 “I’m sure there was nothing you could do, John. Don’t worry yourself over it,” Mr Holmes smiled at him and John felt a little more at ease. “Now, I say we leave the boys alone for now, don’t you all think? I’m sure Sherlock is itching to have John tell him all about school.”

 John made a mental note to thank Mr Holmes later as everyone left, (Mrs Holmes rather reluctantly), to leave him and Sherlock alone.

 “So, um, do you really not remember anything?”

 “Nothing from approximately 3 years ago onwards. Anything or anyone before then is fine.”

 John nodded and looked at his feet. He was emotionally exhausted and he just didn’t know what to do. All he really wanted was to cuddle up next to Sherlock and have him tell him everything would be fine and that Jim was taken care of and that they could be happy. 

 “You seem distracted,” John jumped slightly at the sound of Sherlock’s voice interrupting the silence.

 “I do?”

 “What’s on your mind?”

  _‘My boyfriend has no idea who I am’_

 “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

 For the next 45 minutes they chatted mindlessly as Sherlock asked questions about school and their classmates. He didn’t ask John one thing about himself.

 

***

John had spent the majority of the day at the hospital, being interrogated and then ignored and then fawned over and he couldn’t take it anymore. He went back to his Mum in the car. He just wanted to go home. 

 “Well?” His mother looked concerned and expectant.

 “Amnesia…”

 “Oh John…”

 And that’s when he burst into tears. 

 “H-he doesn’t know w-who I am.”

 John cried all the tears he’d been hoarding into his mother’s shoulder as she rubbed his back soothingly, rocking them slightly like she used to.

John cried until he ran out of tears and then sat up out of his Mum’s grip, blushing slightly.

"Sorry…”

“Don’t apologise sweetheart, this must be horrible for you.”

 John sniffed as she started up the car.

 “What you need is a nice cup of tea and a cuddle.”

 John just nodded. He loved his Mum and was really grateful for everything she was doing for him, but all he wanted to do was have a nice cup of tea and a cuddle with Sherlock. 

 

***

After John had left the hospital, Sherlock had spent a lot of time trying to establish the relationship they had. Everyone he had asked had just told him John was his best friend, but something about their reactions didn’t convince him. They said it in a sad way, and Sherlock couldn’t figure out what this meant. 

 His parents and Mycroft had left for the night a few hours ago and he was sat up, still awake, trying as hard as he could to remember something, anything, when he heard someone just outside his room. Sherlock listened closely for a footstep he recognised but it wasn’t anyone he knew, or could remember.

 “Hello?”

 The door to his room started to open, revealing a short boy around his age, with black hair and a smug smile.

 “Well, well,” he drawled, “So good to see you, Sherlock.”

 “Who are you?”

 “Now come Sherlock, you must remember _me,_ ” he said with a wicked grin.

 “You’re Moriarty, aren’t you?”

 “Very good. I didn’t expect you to get it that quickly. I mustn’t have pushed you hard enough.”

 “What are you doing here?”

 “I’ve come to visit the poor Sherlock Holmes in hospital.”

“Why? Want to finish what you started? Or just come to gloat?” 

“You’re being very brave for someone who can’t remember how dangerous I am.”

 “Just tell me what you want and get out.”

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated for like a million years so everybody has probably lost interest but anyway, here's the next chapter!

Sherlock was sat as upright as possible in his hospital bed with his heart beating unusually fast. Was this fear? No, Sherlock Holmes never felt fear. At least not that he remembered.

“What. Do. You. Want?”, he said through gritted teeth.

Jim just chuckled. It was a sound that gave Sherlock chills.

“I’m just here to make sure your little ‘friend’ John Watson doesn’t throw me under the bus. Ooh, that would be a fun murder, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re too late. Everybody knows it was you and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Sherlock knew that wasn’t true as soon as he said it.

“Oh dear. I suppose I’d better leave now then…” Jim said in a sarcastic and mocking tone as he pretended to head for the door. “But before I go, Sherlock, I know you’re memory is a bit rusty so I’d better remind you to tell John that he’ll be next. Ta ta for now!”

With that, Moriarty blew a kiss to the seething Sherlock and left, leaving him to worry about what was to come.

***

John had decided not to visit Sherlock for a few days as he didn’t want him to figure out their past before he had the chance to explain things. Even with a foggy mind, John was sure Sherlock was still above average at almost everything. He was probably the one telling the doctors what to do.

John was sat on his new bed in his new room at his Mum’s new apartment when his phone buzzed.

_Come to the hospital. Now. I need to speak to you urgently. SH_

“Mum?” John shouted, “Can you drive me to the hospital?”

***

John was relieved to see that Sherlock’s family weren’t at the hospital that day as he’d had enough of them. Mr and Mrs Holmes were lovely, but a little overbearing, and Mycroft was very intimidating. John was the type of person that used humour to cover up an uncomfortable conversation and Mycroft was the type of person that knew that and yet didn’t make the conversation any easier.

On arrival at the hospital John felt quite nervous. He had no idea what Sherlock wanted to talk to him about, but whatever it was it couldn’t be good.

The first thing Sherlock did when he saw John was frown.

“Hey, I came as soon as I- Why are you frowning at me?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Am not.”

“Still as stubborn as ever…” muttered John.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” he smiled slightly at John and they shared a moment that was oddly familiar to Sherlock.

“Anyway, what did you want to speak to me about?”

“Moriarty payed me a nice little visit last night.”

“What? What happened? What did he say? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

John immediately regretted sounding so worried, but part of him didn’t care. He needed to protect Sherlock. There was a pause as Sherlock analysed John’s tone of voice and the wideness of his shiny eyes.

“Sherlock!?”

“He told me to inform you that he’s coming for you next. He gave no indication as to what that meant exactly but we have to find out.”

Despite just being told that he was in immediate danger, John felt happy. He was happy that Sherlock seemed to care about what happened to him and it was the first time he felt that things could somehow be like they used to.

“Right. And how are we going to find out?”

“I haven’t exactly figured that out yet.”

John sighed and slumped into the chair closest to Sherlock’s bed, resting his elbow on the arm and his head on his hand. Sherlock watched John’s face closely and saw the fear, the worry, and the frustration. He assumed the frustration was aimed at him as he had no recollection of their past together. Sherlock liked John and could see how they would have been friends, but something about John’s behaviour still puzzled him. Of course he had thought of the possibility of them being more than friends, but John didn’t seem the type and so he dismissed that thought as quickly as it had come to him.

“John?”

“Mhmm?”

“Uh, I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh I heard you, I just wanted to hear you say it again,” he chuckled. “But what for…?”

“For getting you involved in this business with Moriarty. I obviously don’t remember all the ins and outs but I’m pretty certain this is all my fault.”

“Not entirely. But mostly,” John smiled. “Don’t worry, it keeps my life interesting.”

_You keep my life interesting._

"We'll figure something out, Sherlock. Whatever he does, it'll be fine."

"No. We're not going to give him the chance to do anything in the first place. We can't."

"What do you suggest, then? Because I've got nothing."

John was becoming increasingly annoyed at Sherlock's need to take action but lack of suggestion. Sherlock was becoming increasingly annoyed at his own lack of suggestion. 

"Well neither do I at the moment. It might have escaped your notice but I was pushed off a roof," Sherlock snapped as he turned away from John.

"Escaped my notice? Are you kidding? Unbelievable..."

There was silence as they both sat steaming in their own irritation. That was until John stood up.

"Right, I'd better go then," he said quietly. "Your Mum will probably be here soon and I don't want to get in the way." 

He headed for the door and Sherlock watched him go, waiting for one more snide comment.

"I'll let you know if Moriarty smothers me in my sleep." 

Sherlock smiled. That was the side of John he remembered.

 


	23. Chapter 23

Months had passed with no word from Moriarty and it was making John anxious. There was less chance of Sherlock being as much help as usual when he was still recovering. Sherlock had been discharged from hospital and was now staying at home with his parents, much to his dismay, with frequent visits from a specialist to try and help stimulate his memories.

 

John went to visit Sherlock one afternoon and he wished Mr and Mrs Holmes wouldn’t smile at him so sympathetically whenever they saw him. He really liked them, but he longed for Sherlock to remember him so they would treat him normally. 

 

John walked up the sturdy wooden stairs and tentatively knocked on Sherlock’s bedroom door.

 

“Come in, John.”

 

“How did you know it was me?” John said as he closed the door.

 

“I know your footsteps,” Sherlock spoke from behind a newspaper. “Any updates on Moriarty?”

 

“Nope,” John sat on the edge of the bed. “I suppose this is just the calm before the storm.”

 

“I just wish I could think straight and figure out what he’s planning.”

 

“He’s not leaving any clues or anything, Sherlock, there’s no leads.”

 

“There’s always a lead, John, you’re just not looking hard enough.”

 

“Well then I’m not looking anymore. I’m sick of this. Waiting for him to strike, not knowing what he’s going to do. I can’t do it anymore.” John put his head in his hands and Sherlock huffed.

 

“What do you expect me to do? I can’t remember anything! I don’t know what he’s done in the past, or what he’s likely to do, John. You’re more in the know than I am and I don’t understand why you expect me to have all the answers.”

 

“Because you used to have all the answers! And now it’s my responsibility and I don’t know what to do. I… I’m just scared, Sherlock.” 

 

There was a moment of silence as John turned his face away and Sherlock decided it was best to bite his tongue.

 

“John,” he sighed, “I’m sorry I can’t be more help, but I have been pushed-“

 

“Off a roof, yes, I know! You won’t let me forget! Do you have any idea how guilty I feel about that? No, you don’t, because you never ask about me, nobody ever bothers to check if _I’m_ okay! I haven’t slept a full night since it happened.”

 

John was red in the face but was feeling progressively relieved as he let out what he’d been bottling in. He had truly had enough of feeling like he had lost Sherlock and there was no way of getting him back.

 

“None of this is _my_ fault.”

 

“I’m not saying that, Sherlock, and you bloody well know it. All I’m saying is that I’m done. I honestly don’t care what Moriarty does to me anymore. He can kill me, for all I care.”

 

John walked towards the door and opened it, looking back at Sherlock in the hope that he would say something to make it all better. He didn’t. So John left. 

 

***

 

By the time John got home he was crying. He was convinced that he’d lost Sherlock forever and so he felt no shame in his tears.

 

He unlocked the door to his Mum’s place and quickly wiped his eyes and face with his jumper sleeve.

 

“Mum? I’m back-“

 

“Well hello there John,” came a chilling voice in the corner.

 

“Jim? What the hell are you doing here!?”

 

“Just thought I’d pay you a visit…”

 

“Why? To stop me from saying anything? Because you’re too late. Everybody knows what really happened on that roof.”

 

“Oh, that’s not why I came. No,no. I’ve come to help you get Sherlock back,” Jim smiled and walked closer to John.

 

“What?” John knew not to trust him, but he was intrigued nonetheless.

 

“I’ve decided that I feel bad about what happened, John, and I want to help you.”

 

“I don’t believe you. What do you want?”

 

Jim chuckled, “I knew you’d be harder to fool. Sit down,” he gestured to the table and sat himself down as John tentatively did the same. “I know what you’ve told the police, but nothing is going to come of it. I’ll get away with it, I always do,” he sneered. “But, depending on your next decision, Sherlock could be punished for attempting to push _me_ from that roof.”

 

“ _What?_ Why would you do that? We haven’t done anything to you, Jim. I’m sick of all this, it has to stop!”

 

“Why? I’m keeping your lives interesting, you know that.”

 

“No,” John stood up, “You’re keeping your own life interesting while ruining ours.”

 

This seemed to have struck a nerve as Jim’s entire face hardened and John suddenly felt that he wasn’t as fearless as he appeared.

 

***

 

Sherlock was attempting to have a nap when he felt his phone buzz on the pillow next to him, so he answered very groggily.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hi Sherlock.”

 

It was John. He sounded strange, even for someone who he’d just fought with and expected to never hear from again. 

 

“Uh, what is it?”

 

“I’m here with Jim and we need your help to solve a puzzle.”

 

John’s voice was very stiff and Sherlock was almost certain Jim was forcing him to say these things.

 

“Why should I help you?”

 

“To save John.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I told you. To save your friend.”

 

“No.”

 

There was silence and John hung up. Sherlock guessed it couldn’t be good for him, but he didn’t want to get mixed up in all of this again. He didn’t remember enough to care.

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for like a year of absence I kind of forgot about this hahaha anyway I hope y'all enjoy

John was sat at his kitchen table, Moriarty stood opposite, with his mobile phone in front of him. He felt horribly unnerved and longed for the phone to ring so he could relax his muscles, as his whole body was stiff with rage and worry. The longer they sat there in silence, the more the realisation that Sherlock wasn’t coming to the rescue trickled through John. He knew that without the memory of how he had felt about John, it was no use: Sherlock wouldn’t risk anything for somebody he barely knew. It wouldn’t be worth it for him. 

John tried to suppress these realisations but he couldn’t. As they built and built, so did the tears in his eyes and the lump in his throat. 

“…Awww,” Moriarty sneered as he noticed John’s emotions seep through. “You’ve realised he’s not coming to rescue his damsel in distress?” He started to pace around the small kitchen, his shiny shoes tapping on the tiled floor. “I’m not going to lie, for a while there I did expect him to come crashing through the door, but Sherlock Holmes is one selfish human being, John.” He spoke with a mock concern that went through John like ice.

“I don’t care anymore,” John lied. “I don’t care that he doesn’t remember me. So do whatever you want to me, you would be doing me a favour…”

This was partly true. If Sherlock didn't remember John, then John didn't care about what happened to himself. As he looked at Jim with determination, he saw an eerie smile spread across his face. 

“Now, there would be no point in hurting you as I’d planned anymore, as it obviously hasn't provoked Sherlock like I’d hoped,” he said with a thoughtful expression as he continued to pace. “But it would be jolly good fun anyway.” 

***   
Sherlock, still in bed, had been staring at his phone for the past ten minutes, going over everything he knew so far in his mind. He knew that he and John had been friends, however he was unsure of how close they were exactly. He also knew that Moriarty wasn’t far off being a full blown psychopath. Yet Sherlock still wasn’t certain that the logical thing to do was run to John’s aid. He didn’t feel like he had enough knowledge or evidence to have this inevitable confrontation with Moriarty just yet. 

In a bid to stretch his legs, Sherlock swung them over the side of the bed. What he didn’t expect was to get caught up in the sheets, and so he hit the floor with a thud, accompanied by an audible “Oof!” 

As he lay on the floor, rubbing his funny bone, he had a sudden recollection of John saying “It’s not very funny, is it?” with a big grin on his face after Sherlock had hit his elbow, (and yelled “Fuck!” just after), on the headboard of his bed in their room. A bed that they were both lying in. Lying in without clothes on. 

Sherlock sat bolt upright, still tangled in sheets, his heart beating slightly faster than it usually did. Part of him was using this memory as confirmation that he and John were more than friends, yet the other part was struggling to understand why John hadn’t said anything about it. Why had he felt like he had to keep that from him? Unless John was using Sherlock’s lack of memory as a way to end whatever relationship they had previously had. Sherlock hoped this wasn’t true but it seemed like the most plausible possibility to him. 

He stood up, pulled the sheets off, put some respectable clothes on and looked for his phone amongst the mess of sheets and pillows that represented his bed. When he couldn’t find it he figured it must have fallen onto the floor with him, and so he bent down to look under the bed. Sure enough, it had slipped under there, and as he reached underneath he pulled out a collection of paper with it. At first glance it looked like a pile of useless notes, much like the ones littered around the rest of his room, but the word ‘John’ was scribbled over it in various places, and it caught Sherlock’s eye. The first page was entitled ‘John’s birthday surprise’. Sherlock felt a strange swelling in his chest as he read his own scrawled penmanship across five pages (front and back) of ideas to make his boyfriend John happy on his birthday.

It was like a switch had been flicked on. The more Sherlock read, the more he saw what his feelings were for John, and the more he started to remember. He remembered how John organised his underwear by colour, how John would kiss Sherlock on the nose every night before they went to sleep, how John had loved him. And there in Sherlock’s hand was all the evidence he needed to show that he loved John Watson back. 

***

John was still sat at his kitchen table with Moriarty staring at him from across the room, and nothing had been said for a while now. There was a level of tension in the air and John was becoming more frustrated by the minute. 

“What are you waiting for?” John exclaimed suddenly into the silence. “Sherlock’s not coming. Just do whatever your stupid plan was and leave. Or it’s going to get very awkward very fast when my Mum comes home.”

John dreaded to think what levels Moriarty had gone to to make sure John’s Mum didn’t return home so he forced himself to focus on his own current situation. 

“Please. I’m just bored now.” John sounded a lot more confident than he felt. “Aren’t you?” 

Moriarty took a minute to reply. 

“Why yes, actually, I am bored.” He showed no emotion on his face as he stood up slowly and walked over to John. 

“You’re playing the same part in this game as you have been this whole time, John.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Moriarty bent down to John’s ear and whispered menacingly, “You’re still the damsel in distress…” 

At that moment, the door to the apartment flew open as Sherlock ran in, panting with his hair shining with sweat. But before John could shout anything, Jim had grabbed him and dragged him out onto the small balcony that led from the kitchen and both John and Sherlock silently cursed his Mum for renting a flat on the fourth floor. 

“What the fuck are you doing!?” John yelled as he shook himself from Moriarty’s grip. 

“Well, you said you were bored!” Moriarty said with a laugh, as Sherlock joined them outside. 

“John, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-“

“And right on cue, our lovely Prince Charming has come to rescue the Princess. I do love a happy ending! Although sadly, this won’t be…” 

“Sherlock, what are you doing here?” 

John tried to go to him but Moriarty gripped his arm uncomfortably tight.

“Tut, tut, John. No physical contact allowed before you jump, I’m afraid.” 

Both John and Sherlock looked at Jim with wide eyes. 

“I’m not jumping anywhere.” John spoke as his body started to shake. 

“Jim, this is completely pointless! I’ll jump! That’s what you really want, isn’t it? Because John and I are happy and in love and if you’re hellbent on destroying that then I’m jumping because John deserves happiness so much more than I do!” 

“Shut up, Sherlock! Stop trying to be my hero! Nobody has to jum-” John just registered what Sherlock had said and his brain went into overdrive. “Wait, what? Y-you remember?” 

“Yes, John. I remember now and I’m sorry…” 

Moriarty rolled his eyes. “This is all very touching. But somebody is jumping off this balcony and I say John should have a turn…” 

He pulled John’s arm so quickly that he yelled in pain, causing Sherlock to rush straight over to Moriarty and punch him square in the face. John’s arm was released and he ran back inside to get his phone. 

“John!” Sherlock shouted to him as Jim’s hands closed around his neck. “Call Mycroft!” 

The sounds of them scuffling on the balcony made John uneasy as he dialled the phone and Mycroft answered almost immediately. 

“John? Are you at your Mother’s flat or your Father’s?” 

He sounded extremely calm for somebody who obviously knew what the situation was and John gave him the address and hung up, running back outside to find Sherlock trying to bite his way out of a headlock. If it wasn’t all so serious and dramatic, John would have laughed at the sight of these two scrawny teenagers in a fist fight. He kicked Moriarty as hard as possible in the shin and he released his grip on Sherlock, which gave them an opportunity to close in on him. John was very conscious of how close they were to the edge but the other two didn’t seem to care; they revelled in it. Sherlock knew that Mycroft would be ready for what he was planning to do next, so he grabbed Moriarty by the shoulders and bent his back slightly over the edge of the railings. 

“The game is over.” 

And with that, Sherlock shoved him completely over the edge. John shouted, Jim shouted, but it was all a blur to Sherlock as he watched him plummet.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter yay yay yay! Thank you for sticking with this ridiculous fic, (that I'm actually really proud of bc it's my first one), and I hope you've enjoyed it and I haven't ruined your favourite characters hahahaha

John’s feet were rooted to the spot as he stared blankly at the back of Sherlock’s head. He couldn’t believe it. The drop was certainly enough to kill somebody and John was absolutely terrified of what the outcome would be. Sherlock didn’t turn around in the minute it took John to find his voice.

“I-I can’t believe you did that…”

Sherlock still didn’t speak as he continued to look over the railings. John wasn’t even sure he had heard him.

“Sherlock…? Sherlock, he might be dead.” John’s confidence, fear and anger all grew simultaneously as he started to shake slightly. The most prominent thought circling John’s mind was that even though Sherlock had remembered some things, he wasn’t who he used to be, and this scared him tremendously.

“He’s not,” Sherlock said simply. “Come and see for yourself.”

John walked forwards with uncertainty and swallowed before looking over the edge. What he saw was so far from what he expected he lost his breath for a moment and stupidly blinked a couple of times in case something had got into his eye and impaired his vision. On the quiet street below was a delivery van, with an open roof, and inside the van was Moriarty being constrained by two official looking men. How he had ended up in the van without being hurt, John had no idea, but his relief outweighed his curiosity. That was until:

“I suppose you want me to tell you how Moriarty ended up there without being hurt?”

Somehow, that became the last straw for John, who rounded on Sherlock with a red face and teary eyes.

“Not really, no, Sherlock. What I want is for you to tell me how much you remember and how you feel and what that means now because that’s what’s important to me.”

His emotions escaped him and the mental exhaustion hit as his voice became progressively louder and his head heavier.

“But I know that it’s important to you to tell me how clever you are, so go on then,” John said harshly, looking at Sherlock with tears in his eyes. When he didn’t get a response, he started to walk inside, and Sherlock’s gaze followed.

John sat at the table with his head in his hands and Sherlock silently entered the kitchen and sat beside him.

“John, I-“

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t apologise,” John turned to look at Sherlock’s shiny, pale face and sharp green eyes. “It’s uncharacteristically nice of you.”

Sherlock’s lip twitched in a slight smile as John wrapped his short arms around his neck, enveloping him in a tight hug. The smell of John’s hair made Sherlock feel warm inside and he put his arms around John’s middle, causing John to let out a tiny sob.

“I’m so sorry, Sherlock, I’m sorry I didn’t do anything to stop him on that roof-“

“John, even I didn’t anticipate me being pushed and suffering from amnesia as a possible end to the scenario on the roof of that barn. There’s nothing either of us could have done.”

John pulled away from the hug and put his hand on Sherlock’s cheek.

“I’m just glad I have you back… I didn’t think you’d ever remember me…”

“I rarely feel such strong emotions, John, I couldn’t let myself forget them…”

John smiled a teary smile and pushed a strand of hair out of Sherlock’s eyes.

“Good.”

“So, um, now can I tell you what happened with Moriarty?”

John stared at him in disbelief for a second before cracking a smile and laughing lightly.

“Okay, I am very curious. It was to do with Mycroft, right?”

Sherlock nodded, “Mycroft works for the government and so I knew he’d love to get his hands on Jim. I found notes in my room of how I’d planned to push him off the roof of that barn and how I was going to involve Mycroft to ensure he was out of our lives without actually terminating his.”

John watched Sherlock’s face as he spoke and wondered how he was actually coping with this memory stuff. Had John been selfish? He didn’t know, but he knew that Sherlock wouldn’t think that, which made him feel a little better.

“I had apparently had a previous inkling that Jim would target you at home, and so I had Mycroft prepare for this at both of your parent’s places. Don’t look at me like that, John, it was a good job we did. So I attached a wire to Jim whilst we were fighting, that I’m sure he noticed but just ran with anyway, and then when I pushed him, the wire ensured his safety while delivering him down to Mycroft’s henchmen. Simple, really. Barely needed an explanation, but as you quite rightly said earlier, I like showing you how clever I-“

John had cut Sherlock off by kissing him, much to his bewilderment, and they sat with their lips together and arms around each other in blissful content until the front door flew open with such force the boys physically jumped away from each other.

John’s father stood in the doorway, absolutely seething, with John’s mother rushing up the corridor behind him.

“Just leave him be-“

“What the devil is going on around here!?”

“Dad, I-“

“If you tell me I walked in on what I think I walked in on, then don’t even think about coming home to me anymore!”

Mr Watson’s face was bright magenta and John’s was heading the same way, with John’s mother going a worrying shade of white. Everybody was stood stock still, almost too scared to move in case Mr Watson erupted with rage, and John’s chest was heaving as an outburst was building inside of him. Sherlock was the first to move as he took a tentative step forward.

“Mr Watson, sir, I’m Sher-“

“I don't bloody care who you are,” Mr Watson almost shouted. “I just want to know what you’ve done to my son! He was perfectly normal when he left my household!” He rounded on his ex wife, “I knew we should have never sent him to that wretched school-“

“It was your idea for me to go there!” John stood next to Sherlock and then defiantly took his hand. “And I’m glad I did.”

“This is ridiculous,” Mr Watson scoffed. “First I come across a highly dangerous criminal being detained outside the building, who had apparently tried to jump off of a balcony-“ John and Sherlock glanced sideways at each other. “- and now this! I came round to pick up some of your belongings but you can-“

“I’ll just keep them here, thanks,” John said curtly.

“How dare-“

“Oh just shut up!” John’s Mum piped up and walked around his father into her flat, putting her short little arm around her son. “I certainly think it would be best if John stayed with me, and unlike you, I have no problem with that whatsoever, so if you don’t mind I’d appreciate it if you got out of our home.”

John’s face split into a huge grin as his father was rendered speechless, and his chest swelled with pride as his mother was finally free of him. Even as Mr Watson continued to splutter arguments, John’s happiness couldn’t be waned.

“I will not stand-“

“Mum, can Sherlock stay the night?”

“How can you let this-“

“Of course he can, dear. He’s welcome any time.”

“But what about-“

“Thank you very much. Do you happen to have any ice? I’ve got a bit of a bruised cheekbone…”

After being ignored, Mr Watson silently retreated out of the flat, down the stairs, and out of their lives. Once the door had closed, John’s Mum pulled both John and Sherlock into a motherly hug.

“I’m so glad you’re both alright. I’ll get you that ice, Sherlock, dear.”

***

John, Sherlock, and John’s Mum had sat at the kitchen table all evening as the boys explained everything and John’s mother quizzed them about their relationship. After finishing their fourth cup of tea, Sherlock yawned and John looked at him in surprise.

“Wow, you must be tired.”

“Well, it has been a rather exhausting day.”

John and Sherlock shared a smile as John’s Mum washed up their mugs.

“We’re going to go to bed I think, Mum.”

“Okay, love,” she said as she sat the mugs to dry. “Just give me a hug first. Both of you.”

They shared a very squishy group hug as Sherlock’s head towered above everything else.

“I’m so proud of you, John,” she said as she kissed her son’s forehead. “And I just want to thank you, Sherlock, for looking out for him. Consider yourself part of the family.” Sherlock bent slightly to allow her to kiss him on the cheek and smiled a very awkward little smile that made John’s heart glow.

“Night, Mum.”

John and Sherlock entered John’s small room, where John’s Mum had set up a mattress and duvet on the floor for Sherlock. All three of them knew it wouldn’t be slept in, but it was nice of her to do anyway. They stripped to their boxers and both climbed into John’s single bed, Sherlock wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. In this moment, Sherlock felt so much closer to John than ever before, and so much more in love, and John felt happier than ever.

“Goodnight, Sherlock.”

Sherlock kissed John’s fluffy hair and smiled to himself.

“Goodnight, John.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to let me know what you thought, next chapter is coming up soon, thanks for reading!


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